


Wishing For You to Find Your Way

by PhiraLovesLoki



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Cursed Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Cursed Storybrooke, Drama, F/M, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 17:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 50,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3217481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhiraLovesLoki/pseuds/PhiraLovesLoki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Storybrooke returns, Emma and Henry's memories are restored. But when they arrive in town, they find that everyone is once again cursed to forget their true identities. Thought to be strangers by their loved ones, the Savior and the Truest Believer must find a way to break the curse and stop the Wicked Witch. Canon divergence from 3x11/3x12 onwards. Captain Swan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Proposal

At eight-fifteen in the morning, Emma Swan woke up with a raging headache. She’d slept extremely poorly all night, plagued by vivid dreams she couldn’t quite remember. Thankfully, it was Saturday, she’d just successfully tracked down a fugitive, and she had nothing else on the slate except for a date with Walsh.

He’d called her up last night, unusually insistent about having dinner. She enjoyed seeing him, but she was frustrated; a headache sounded like a fake excuse to postpone the date, and she didn’t want him to push her to come out anyway.

“Mom, are you awake?” Henry stuck his head through the partially open door.

“I am,” she groaned. “Sorry, kid, I’m not feeling too well. Why are you up so early?”

“I had weird dreams last night,” he said. He was twelve—still young enough to need comforting after particularly serious nightmares, but old enough to be embarrassed about it.

“I did, too, actually,” she replied. “If you give me a minute, I’ll make you pancakes for breakfast. I just need a minute; my head is throbbing.”

“Okay,” he said. “It’s just—Mom, my head hurts, too.”

She sat up in bed, which made the pounding in her skull momentarily worse. “Maybe we’ve both caught something.”

“What, you think headaches are contagious?” he asked skeptically. “I’m gonna lie down on the couch if that’s okay.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in a second. Get some water—that might help.”

As she stood in the kitchen, making pancakes and washing down ibuprofen with some orange juice—maybe she just needed more electrolytes—Henry lay slouched on the couch, drinking the water she’d set down for him on the coffee table and watching a rerun of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer._ He didn’t seem to have a fever, and neither did she; they both just had splitting headaches after sleeping badly.

She coaxed Henry to the table for pancakes—she’d had enough trouble getting syrup stains off of the couch after the _last_ time—but he only ate half his breakfast before returning to the sofa. She hadn’t offered to make him hot chocolate with cinnamon—she hoped that drinking water or juice would help him feel better instead—and he had uncharacteristically neglected to ask for it anyway.

Something was really wrong. She could feel it in her gut.

When it had reached a more reasonable weekend morning hour, she called Walsh.

“Hey, sweetie,” he said cheerily. “Ready for dinner tonight?”

“I’m sorry, Walsh,” she said, “But I’m going to have to cancel. Both Henry and I are really not feeling well. I’m not up for dinner, and even if I were, I need to stay home with Henry.”

“You’re both sick? That’s really bad luck. Are you okay? What are your symptoms?”

“Calm down, doctor,” she teased. She rubbed one of her temples with her free hand. “Killer headaches. We’ll go to urgent care tomorrow if we need to, but I just think we both need to stay in and rest. You understand, right?”

“Of course! I’m just worried about the two of you,” he said. She smiled. “Listen, I’ve gotta run for the moment, but I’m coming over tonight with some of the best chicken soup New York City has to offer, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Walsh—” she began, but he cut her off.

“Emma, I care about you and Henry. Why don’t you let someone else take care of the two of you for a change?”

“Okay,” she said, recognizing that she’d been defeated. “See you around six?”

“Six is perfect. Tell Henry I say hi, and to pick a movie for us to watch tonight.”

“I will.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“Walsh is coming over?” Henry asked from the couch.

“Is that okay?” He’d come over once, and Henry had seemed pretty cool with it. The two of them got along very well. But this time, Walsh had invited himself over, and Emma hadn’t checked with Henry first.

“Yeah, as long as I can stay in my pajamas.”

“Totally fine, kid. I probably will, too.”

They passed the rest of the day watching episodes of _Friends,_ talking about Henry’s upcoming school projects, and playing _Super Smash Bros._ By the time Walsh arrived with soup, they were both glued to the TV, still dressed in pajamas, while Henry’s Link practically destroyed Emma’s Kirby. “This isn’t fair,” Emma pointed out. “You practice all the time when you play with your friends. I only get practice when I play with you.”

The buzzer rang. “Saved by the bell, Mom,” Henry said with a smirk.

“Let me help you with this,” Emma told Walsh as he came through the door with plastic bags heavy with take-out.

“I got it,” he said patiently. “Go sit down, you invalid. Henry, are you hungry?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Henry replied, powering down the gaming console. “Thanks for bringing dinner, Walsh.”

“It’s no problem. I just wish you were both feeling better. I’d have liked to have gone out tonight,” he added, flicking his eyes to Emma. She frowned; who cared about one postponed dinner date? It wasn’t as if they’d only recently begun dating, and a cancelled date indicated lack of interest. Hell, a week ago, she’d gotten an IUD; that was her way of acknowledging that she saw him as a long-term partner. It wasn’t supposed to be an indicator that he should get a little clingier.

They finished dinner quickly; Walsh was a pretty fast eater, and she and Henry still had very little appetite. “Mom, I’m going to play Diablo—is that okay?”

“Sure, kid.” She took another sip of her soup; it wasn’t improving her headache any. She looked back at Walsh. “We can wait to watch a movie,” she said, lowering her voice. “Besides, he’s been a little listless all day. I’m glad he wants to play his favorite game.”

“It’s fine,” Walsh replied. “Although, do you think maybe you and I could talk in private?”

“I guess. Hey, Henry?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re going to talk on the roof. We’ll be right back, okay?”

“Sure, okay.” But he was already focused on his game.

Now regretting the decision to stay in her pajamas all day, Emma stuffed her feet into her winter boots and zipped up her warmest, puffiest coat. Walsh grinned at her attire; she hoped none of the neighbors saw her.

As she expected, it was chilly up on the roof, at least for someone wearing flannel pajama pants instead of jeans. “Is everything okay?” She asked.

“It’s better than okay,” Walsh replied. “There was just something I wanted to talk to you about on our date tonight, and I figured, hey, the date might be off, but we can still talk. Right?”

She chuckled nervously. “What, like a break-up talk?”

“Why would I have invited you to dinner at an expensive restaurant if I wanted to talk about breaking up?”

“Point taken.” She crossed her arms and tucked her freezing hands into her armpits.

“Emma, I know it’s only been eight months, but I really see a future for us. For all three of us. I know you’ve been searching for family your whole life, and … and I think I could be your family. Yours and Henry’s.” He knelt on the cold cement and pulled a ring from his pocket. “Emma Swan, will you marry me?”

Never in her life had she regretted wearing pajamas as much as she did in that moment. “Walsh, I … I’m really surprised.”

“Well, I meant it to be a surprise, so that’s good, I guess.”

“Don’t you think it’s just a little too fast, though? I mean, it _has_ only been eight months.” She _did_ see him as a long-term partner, but …

“Emma,” he said, rising back to his feet. “I’ve known from the moment I met you that you were the right person for me. Why do you think I had your furniture order ready two weeks early?”

“Your commitment to excellence?” she guessed. He chuckled, but her guess had been a sincere one. She didn’t particularly like learning that there had been an ulterior motive behind the customer service. And maybe he was exaggerating, but the idea that he’d immediately known he’d want to marry her was a little iffy.

“I know you think that I’m going to walk out on you—and on Henry. But I’m not Neal, Emma.”

“I didn’t believe Neal could abandon me until he did,” she reminded him.

 _There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that I don’t regret having left you,_ Neal had said.

Wait—no he hadn’t. Why did she remember him saying that?

“I understand,” he said sadly. “I’ve always known you’ve had trust issues—it’s part of what makes you the person you are. It’s not a deal-breaker.”

_Try something new, darling. It’s called trust._

“What did you just say?” she asked.

“That your trust issues aren’t a deal-breaker,” he said slowly. He continued. “Listen, Emma. It’s okay if you need time to think about it. But you don’t have to be alone. You don’t have to raise Henry alone. You can have a happy ending.”

 _Believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a powerful thing._ Her headache was getting suddenly worse. Who had said that to her?

“I just …” she struggled to find the right words amid the pain and confusion in her head. “I just want to make sure I make the right decision.”

“I understand—you don’t want any regrets,” he said, a little sadly.

 _I should be overflowing with regret, but I’m not. Because it got me my son._ A woman had said that about Henry, but that wasn’t possible because she was Henry’s mother.

Walsh was still talking, oblivious to her distress. “So it’s okay if you need to take some time. I can handle it.”

 _Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it_. She recalled annoyance—thinking _Oh really?_ —and a passionate kiss. But who had kissed her like that?

“Walsh, I’m sorry, this isn’t a good time,” she said. Maybe being proposed to was making her go crazy; that seemed pretty likely.

“Mom?” It was Henry, also dressed in pajamas, his winter coat, and boots. “Are you still up here?”

“Sorry, kid,” she said, rubbing her temples. “We’re just coming down now. Are you okay?”

“I remembered stuff,” he said quickly. “Mom, I remembered Storybrooke.”

“Story—”

 _Storybrooke._ It all clicked. The headache disappeared. Storybrooke.

Mary Margaret. Regina. David. Neal. Hook. The Enchanted Forest.

It was like waking up.

“What’s this about Storybrooke?” Walsh asked.

“It’s too hard to explain,” Henry said. “But Mom, I think it’s back. We need to go back.”

“I … I guess we do.” She remembered now. She remembered driving off with Henry as Pan’s curse descended upon the town, desperately hoping that Regina was wrong about their memories. She hadn’t wanted to forget how she’d met her son, or found her parents, or made peace with Neal.

If Storybrooke’s disappearance meant that they would lose all their memories of it, then the restoration of those memories meant only one thing: Storybrooke was back. Henry was right; they needed to go back and see what had happened.

“I don’t understand what’s going on here,” Walsh said awkwardly.

“Henry’s right,” Emma said. She gave him a sympathetic smile. “It’s too hard to explain. We’re going to need to leave right away.”

“Because of Storybrooke?”

“Yeah.” She paused. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to come with us,” she said awkwardly. “It’s just really complicated.”

“It had better be complicated if you’re considering my proposal one moment and then planning a road trip to Maine the next.”

“You proposed?” Henry asked.

“How did you know we’d be going to Maine?” Emma asked.

He sighed. Emma quickly placed herself between Walsh and Henry. “You should have just said yes,” he said bitterly.

* * *

 “Well, I am _really_ glad you didn’t say yes,” Henry said as Emma locked the apartment door behind them. “But it’s a little disturbing that you dated him for almost a year.”

“Kid, how was I supposed to know he was a flying monkey?” she asked. “You didn’t know he was one either.”

“I spent less time with him,” Henry pointed out. “Where’s my big suitcase?”

“In my closet,” she said. “I’ll grab it in a second.”

She was still having trouble processing that Walsh had, right in front of the two of them, turned into a flying monkey. He’d scored a few hits, too, before Henry had tossed her a piece of metal piping he’d found on the rooftop, and she’d used it to hit Walsh so hard that he burst into a cloud of fur and feathers. One moment, a man she loved was asking her to spend the rest of her life with him, and the next, it was like being in an episode of _Buffy._

She groaned; it was a little _too_ similar. She’d _slept_ with a monster! Thank goodness they hadn’t had sex since she had the IUD placed; who knew what kind of flying monkey diseases the condoms have protected her from?

She grabbed the first aid kit from underneath the sink, swabbed the claw marks on her arm with some rubbing alcohol, slathered on antibiotic ointment, and then applied bandages. There was no way she was letting those cuts get infected.

She returned to her bedroom to grab the suitcases from the top of her closet. Henry had already laid out piles of clothing on his bed by the time she brought him his big suitcase; at this rate, he was going to be ready to leave for Maine tonight.

Back in her bedroom, she begun to sort through her own clothes. Late winter in Maine was relatively easy to pack for—boots, spring colors, and lots of layers—but how long would they be staying? Would they return to New York City, and if so, how soon? Setting aside the fact that her boyfriend had turned out to be a flying monkey who’d tried to kill them, their lives here had been nice. The most stress she felt on a regular basis related to difficulties in chasing down particular bail-jumpers, and Henry had nothing to worry about besides studying for his next math test. She might have only been his primary guardian for a year, but it _felt_ like she’d always been his mother, and she wasn’t really hankering to throw her son right back into the dangerous life they had back in Storybrooke.

But if Storybrooke was back, that meant that her parents were back. It meant that Henry’s two _other_ parents were back. If not for the crippling weight she felt on her shoulders every time she remembered she was the Savior, she wouldn’t feel conflicted at all about wanting to return.

She grabbed her leather jackets from where they’d spent a year at the back of her closet and placed them in a suitcase. Like it or not, she _was_ the Savior, and they were going back.


	2. The Arrival

On the drive through New England, Emma and Henry passed the time hypothesizing about the return of Storybrooke, pondering why a flying monkey had ingratiated itself into their lives, and reliving the time spent in Neverland. They hadn’t had a chance to talk about what had happened in Neverland, since Pan had switched bodies with Henry on their way back to Storybrooke, and the rest of their time there had been spent trying to stop him.

She told him all about how David had been poisoned, how Neal had been rescued, and how everyone had worked together to save him from Pan. She left out the secrets that had been told in the Echo Caves, even though Henry had begged her to tell him. “Those were really dark secrets, and I know that everyone would be really embarrassed if I told you.”

“Well, obviously, Gramps’ secret was that he’d been poisoned. I still can’t believe he didn’t tell you.”

“He didn’t want to distract from the mission,” she reminded him. “We all wish he’d told us, but it was for the best that he’d kept it a secret. That way we could use it to get to your dad.”

“Will you at least tell me Hook’s secret?”

“No! Why would I?” Thinking about his confession made her blush. _Until I met you._ There was no way she was telling Henry about _that._

“I don’t know. It’s not like he’s one of the heroes. What’s he going to care if you tell?”

She pursed her lips. “Henry, without Hook, we’d never have saved you. He came back with the bean and brought us to Neverland. He fought alongside us, and when he told his secret, he did it so that we could save Neal. The least I can do is keep his darkest secret.”

“You know, I’m just going to keep pestering you.”

“I know, kid. How about this? If you still want to know the secrets when you’re eighteen, I’ll tell you.”

“I’m going to hold you to that, Mom.”

Henry told her all about the lies Pan had told him, and how he had tried to find reasons not to trust him—after all, Pan was keeping him away from his family—and how ashamed he was that Pan tricked him.

“I barely knew him, and I had you, Mom, and Dad all begging me not to do listen to him.”

“Kid, even Rumplestiltskin himself was barely able to stop Pan. And to do it, he had to die in the process. Meanwhile, the entire time we were on that island, Pan did nothing except manipulate all of us and try to turn us all against each other. There’s no reason to be ashamed that you were bested by a villain who was practically the best of the best.”

As for Walsh being a flying monkey, that was a little easier. “Obviously, we’re dealing with the Wicked Witch of the West,” Henry said, matter-of-factly.

“Okay, but why?” Emma asked him. “Why would she want a flying monkey to propose to me?”

“Beats me, Mom. But I’d guess she didn’t want you coming back to Storybrooke.”

After nearly eight hours of driving, as well as a stops for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, they were finally in the familiar wilderness of Maine.

“Do you think it’ll be there?” Henry asked.

“It has to be. Does that make sense?”

“I think so. I feel the same way.” She reached over and squeezed his hand before resuming her grip on the gear shift.

Sure enough, at nearly ten o’clock at night, they drove past the town welcome sign. Storybrooke was back. She felt a twinge of excitement, although she was so nervous, she wondered if she would throw up.

“I think Granny’s should still be open,” Emma said as she pulled into the lot behind the diner. “Maybe we should stay here for the night, and then find Mary Margaret, David, and Regina tomorrow.”

“I’m sure they’d just be happy to see us,” Henry said. “And I think they’d be disappointed if they found out that we came to town and didn’t immediately look for them.”

“I just don’t have the energy tonight, kid, if that’s okay.” He looked disappointed, but he nodded in agreement, to her relief.

As expected, the diner was still open, although it was nearly empty as Emma and Henry stepped inside and made a beeline for Granny, who was at the till.

“Hey!” Henry said brightly, and Emma found herself grinning widely at the first sight of a familiar face.

But Granny simply cocked her head and frowned. “Hey yourself, young man.” She turned to Emma. “How can I help you folks?”

Something wasn’t right. Henry caught Emma’s eye and raised his eyebrows. “Um, we’d like a room, please. A suite, if possible.”

Granny nodded. “We’ve got a forest view and a square view, although the square view is twenty dollars extra per night. How many nights will you be staying?” She sounded irritated that they were bothering her.

“A forest view is fine,” Emma said. “We’re, uh …” she glanced at Henry again, and he nodded. “We’re actually not sure how long we’ll be here. At least a few nights, but maybe more. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all, so long as you’re paying.” Granny moved to the ledger and began scribbling information down. “Can I get your name please?”

“Uh, Emma. Swan. Emma Swan. And my son, Henry.”

There was still no recognition as Granny held out her hand for a credit card. Emma dug out her card with the highest limit, one she used infrequently in case she needed to charge a significant amount, and handed it over. It was returned to her along with a set of keys with mermaids on the handles. “Room three oh five,” Granny said, pointing towards the doorway to the inn part of the building.

“Thank you.”

They tried to keep their voices down as they unloaded the car. “Mom, I’ve lived here almost my whole life, and Granny is _not_ that good at acting.”

“Do you think it’s just her, or her and some other people? Or do you think—”

“It’s gotta be the whole town,” Henry insisted. He threw his overpacked backpack over his shoulder before grabbing both his giant rolling suitcase and Emma’s smaller one. Sometimes, she couldn’t believe how much taller he’d gotten since he’d first arrived on her doorstep; he was already able to carry more luggage than she could. She grabbed her second suitcase, locked the car, and followed Henry back inside.

“I wonder who cast the curse this time,” she said. “We really need to find your mom.”

* * *

 The next morning confirmed their suspicions: the whole town was definitely cursed, and no one remembered who they were.

On the way to town hall, they’d almost literally bumped into Leroy in the diner, they’d walked past Archie on the street, and they’d nearly been run over by Dr. Whale, who seemed to be running late for his hospital shift. Everyone seemed a little confused by their presence; Emma and Henry were definitely just strangers to them, and both of them knew how often strangers came to Storybrooke (never).

They were relieved when they were told that the mayor would be able to see them. “At least Mom will know who we are,” Henry said. “It’s her curse.”

But she hadn’t.

Mayor Regina Mills welcomed them into her office, politely asked how long they were staying in Storybrooke, and insisted that they come to her if they needed anything, or wanted a town tour, at any point during their stay.

Emma wasn’t sure which was more unnerving: Regina’s inability to remember that the boy sitting in front of her was her own _son,_ or the dramatic lack of animosity that the mayor displayed towards her.

But what would the Evil Queen have to be angry about if she didn’t have her memories? Mayor Mills had no personal vendetta against anyone, except perhaps for political opponents, and had no reason to believe that Emma was a threat. When Emma had first met the mayor when she first came to Storybrooke, she’d wondered whether or not it would kill Regina to just be nice for a change; now that the mayor _was_ nice, Emma wasn’t so sure she liked it.

As soon as they got back to the inn, Henry mumbled something about wanting to rest for a bit and asked if he could hang out in the bedroom for a while. She could hear his sobs from the parlor, even with the door closed.

Emma was grateful that Regina had given her memories of raising Henry; she knew they were based on Regina’s own experience. Those memories, even now, let her know things about Henry she never knew before Pan’s curse. For example, she knew that Henry was going to cry himself out, spend a few minutes in the bathroom washing his face, and then he’d be okay and not want to talk about what happened. It was something Emma never saw during all that time in Storybrooke, but something Regina understood. Knowing it made her feel more like a mother.

They had to get Regina’s memories back. It was the least Emma could do to thank Regina for her sacrifice last year, and Henry needed both of his mothers.

After Henry had washed up, they began to brainstorm a plan.

“First things first, kid,” she started. “We need to find your grandparents.”

“Mom, we’ve been through this before,” he said wearily. “We need a code name.”

“Can’t it just be Operation Cobra again?” she asked. “I was growing pretty fond of it.”

“It’s a new curse. We can’t use the same name.”

“It’s the same curse,” she pointed out. “We’re the ones who have to break it, remember? The only difference now is that Gold is gone and Regina doesn’t remember either.” That wasn’t all that was different, she remembered, touching the bootlace on her wrist.

“I guess we can call it Operation Cobra till we come up with something better, but we really should keep thinking of something new. Operation Cobra was so 2011.”

“Do you think Mary Margaret and David are at the loft?” she wondered. “Or do you think David is married to Kathryn again? I can’t decide where we should start looking.”

“What would we even tell them if we showed up at their doorstep? ‘Hello, we’re your daughter and grandson?’”

“That’s what you did to me, kid.”

“But you remembered giving me up for adoption. They’re not going to remember. And they’re probably not going to believe you’re their kid—you’re the same age as they are.”

“Sounds like all the same problems you ran into the first time you tried breaking this curse,” she said sympathetically. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I know how rough it was.”

“Mom, if you had told me before this past weekend that you were the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, I’d probably have called social services on you. So I get it.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help smiling. “Well, at least we’re in this together this time.” She grabbed two bottles of water from the insulated shopping bag they’d brought with them and handed one to Henry. “Here’s to another successful Operation Cobra.” She tapped his bottled with his own.

“Cheers,” he replied before unscrewing the cap and taking a swig. “But we really need a better name.

 


	3. The Job Offer

The following morning, Emma brought Henry to Storybrooke Middle School and enrolled him. He’d been reluctant to go back to school (“Mom, how am I supposed to help break the curse when I’m busy _all day_ learning nothing that’ll help us?”), but she’d reminded him that the last time they broke the curse, they’d simultaneously been leading normal—or somewhat normal—lives. He’d been going to school, and she’d had a job. So, she told him, that’s how things were going to go this time (“And besides, you never know what they’re going to teach in school. There might be a curse unit in English or something”).

After dropping Henry off, she began the irritating, mundane, and necessary process of moving their lives back to Storybrooke—at least enough to feel and appear settled. It took the better part of the day, but when she picked Henry up after school, she’d arranged to have a friend pack up and ship their belongings, she’d opened a bank account at the local Storybrooke institution and transferred funds into it, and she’d contacted their landlord and agreed that he would sublet their furnished apartment in New York City.

“Time to look through the classifieds?” Henry asked as they drove through town.

“I had rotten luck last time,” she admitted. “I thought we’d go right to the source.” She pulled up in front of Gold’s shop.

“Mom, he’s … he’s dead, right? So why are we here?”

“He owned the whole town, kid. Whoever’s in charge probably owns it now. Come on, it’ll be fine.”

The shop was exactly as they remembered it, filled to the brim with all sorts of miscellaneous items that didn’t really belong to Gold, and smelling of dust and secrets. Emma’s skin crawled. “Hello?” she asked. The bell had rung when they’d entered, and the sign said the shop was open, but there was no one behind the counter.

There was a patter of feet, though, and a moment later, a small brown-haired boy, about four years old, poked his head out from the back room. “Daddy, there’s people,” he said shyly before ducking back around the corner.

A man with sandy brown hair came out from the back room and stepped behind the counter. “Apologies, madam,” he said. “Welcome to my shop. How can I help you?”

“Um, I thought this was Gold’s pawn shop?” Emma asked nervously.

“Ah, well, as you may know, Mr. Gold is no longer with us. I’m Mark Green, the current proprietor.” He held out his hand, and she shook it. “That was Alex, my son; is this young man yours?”

“Yes,” she said, “my son Henry.” Henry shook Mr. Green’s hand as well. “We were wondering if there were any apartments for rent that would be a good fit for us. We’re at Granny’s for now, but, well, that’s not a very permanent living situation.”

“Of course not,” he said agreeably. “You’re just in luck, Ms. … ”

“Oh, sorry, Swan,” she said. “Emma Swan. I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself.”

“It’s no problem,” he said, smiling. “Well, Ms. Swan, I’ve got a few apartments that you might find suitable. Perhaps I could show them to you after I close the shop tonight. Are you and Henry here available in a few hours? I could meet you here at eight-thirty.”

“That would be great, thank you,” she said. “We’ll meet you in front of the shop.”

She and Henry exited the shop and climbed back into the car. “Did you—” Henry began, but Emma shushed him.

“Hold on,” she said quietly. After she started the car and they’d driven out of sight of the shop, she said, “Okay, who _was_ that?”

“I have _no_ clue, Mom. What did he say his name was?”

“Mark Green. I don’t recognize him at all.”

“Neither do I. I don’t think was here during the first curse.”

“Not everyone in the Enchanted Forest was cursed the first time,” she reminded him. “Mary Margaret and I spent time with Aurora and Mulan, and Hook hadn’t been cursed either. Maybe he escaped the first curse, too.”

“So maybe more people—or different people—got cursed this time,” he concluded. “That’s going to make things more complicated.”

“How so?” They pulled in front of Granny’s.

“Last time, we knew who cast the curse—my mom—and so it was easier to be aware of her trying to manipulate everyone. But now, not only do we not know who cast the curse, it might not even be someone we know.”

“You know, you’re probably right. Do you think that Green guy might have done it?”

“I have no clue. Maybe, or maybe not.”

“I’d guess maybe not. He did have a cute kid.”

“So did my mom,” Henry replied, grinning.

They spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening eating at Granny’s, and relaxing in their rented suite (with Henry responsibly doing some of his homework), before heading back to the pawn shop at closing. Green was waiting for them. “Thanks for coming out so late,” he said as he greeted them.

“It’s no problem,” Emma said. “We’re just happy to look at a few places.”

“Where’s your son?” Henry asked.

“I closed the shop at eight and brought him home already,” Green answered politely. “If you’d like, I’d be more than happy to drive you to each apartment.”

The first place they looked at, conveniently located close to Henry’s school and the town center, was much too small. Even without all the furniture and clutter they’d left in New York, the two of them needed more space. Only one bedroom was large enough for more than just a bed, and the kitchen only had a couple of cupboards.

The second apartment was practically in the forest, far away from what constituted civilization in Storybrooke, and it had two more bedrooms than they needed, which upped the rent considerably. And with a bathroom that didn’t even have a tub, it wasn’t worth the cost.

The final apartment was the one below Mary Margaret’s loft. It was a little pricey, especially since (like the loft) one of the bedrooms was just a curtained-off alcove, and the bathroom was in desperate need of a renovation. But it was in their budget, it came furnished, and it met their needs. Besides, they couldn’t pass up a chance at living in the same building as their loved ones.

The lease was signed, a check was written, and the following day, while Henry was at school, Emma paid Granny, packed their suitcases, and drove over to begin unpacking. Around noon, as she was filling up a dresser drawer with Henry’s socks when there was a knock at the door.

“Hey, I just thought I ought to welcome our new neighbor to Storybrooke.” It was David, holding out his hand to shake hers.

She knew that what she felt at that moment was the way Henry had felt when they’d visited Regina just days earlier. It was like being abandoned all over again. With eyes devoid of recognition, David didn’t look quite like the man she knew. It was uncanny and upsetting, and she almost didn’t reach out and shake his hand.

“I’m Emma Swan,” she said, her voice cracking a little as they shook. She cleared her throat and apologized. “Sorry, been unpacking all day, so I’m a little parched.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said apologetically. “I’m David Nolan—my wife Mary Margaret and I live upstairs. She sent me to welcome you, both to the building and the town.” He smiled. “I’m the sheriff here, so if you have any problems, you just let me know.”

“Thank you,” she said. He turned to leave, but Emma felt the desperate need to continue the conversation. And besides, he if was really sheriff, she might be able to get her foot in the door in the department. “Actually, if you have any job openings, I’d love to know. We just moved here, and I doubt that you have use for a bail bondsperson in such a peaceful town.”

“Really?” He sounded genuinely excited. “Actually—well, you’re right, we haven’t had too many problems with people skipping bail, but if you’re serious about looking for a job, I could use another deputy.”

“Another deputy?” Who was his deputy now? Had Mary Margaret quit teaching so she could work alongside her husband the way they had in the Enchanted Forest? Or maybe Neal was here—it wasn’t _that_ much of a stretch to think that maybe he’d cleaned up the same way she had after prison.

But he interpreted her question differently. “Well, I don’t mean to scare you off, but we’ve been dealing with some weird occurrences in town lately. Disappearances and the like. I’ve got plenty of room in the budget for a new deputy, and I do need one, but no one’s volunteering. If you’re up for it, why don’t you stop by the station tomorrow morning?”

“Sure, that sounds good,” she said. As if a little Storybrooke weirdness would scare her off! “It was nice to meet you, David, but I should probably get back to unpacking. I’ve got to pick up my son from school soon in a couple hours.”

“You have a son?” He smiled. “How old is he?”

“Henry. He’s twelve,” she said. And, as she expected, David looked surprised, though he tried to cover for it. She’d grown used to the reaction in New York—and in her fake memories from Regina. People were always shocked that she could have had a child when she was so young, and be entirely on her feet.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to unpacking,” he said politely. “Feel free to come up and knock if there’s anything you need, or leave a note if we’re not home. It’s nice to have a new neighbor—not a lot of people move here.”

No one ever moved here.

“Thanks again, and I’ll be sure to stop by tomorrow.”

Henry practically interrogated her after she picked him up from school. “How did he seem? Did he seem okay? What did he say about Mary Margaret? Did you find anything out that might be a clue about breaking the curse?”

She pulled into the supermarket parking lot. “Relax, kid. We’re just getting started! You remember how long it took to break the curse last time.”

“Yeah, but this time, you believe, too, so it’s not just me. And I’m two years older. It’ll be faster this time, I promise.”

“I do hope so,” she said sadly, grabbing a cart. “Do you want to push?” He nodded and took it from her, and they began wandering down the aisles. “It was awful to have David look at me and not know who I was.” She reached out and touched Henry’s shoulder. “I’m sorry that you had to experience that with Regina.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” he said lightly, which meant, of course, that he wasn’t. “Can we get these?” he asked, grabbing a party-sized bag of potato chips.

“No, you’ll eat all those in one sitting,” she said. “Get the snack pack ones. Anyway, I’ll see him again tomorrow.”

“Is he coming by again?” He put a box of his favorite cereal in the cart. She had only planned to buy cereal they both liked—cereal that wasn’t sugar-coated—but given the situation, she let it slide. She grabbed a box of healthier cereal for herself.

“He offered me a job as a deputy,” she said. “I’m seeing him tomorrow morning about that.”

“Lemme guess—weird stuff is happening around town?” He smirked.

“Yep. Weird stuff and disappearances.”

“This is good, Mom—I mean, about being a deputy. You’ll be able to investigate. And it’ll be easier because my mom won’t be trying to screw everything up this time around.”

“You know, I know that Regina and I almost never got along, and I admit that there were times where I kind of wanted to just beat her to a pulp … Sorry.”

“She _did_ try to curse you. It’s okay.”

“Well, what she did for us, it means a lot to me. And I’ve just been trying to think about all she went through that made her the way she was before.” She grabbed some ground beef. “Spaghetti and meat sauce for dinner?”

“Sure.”

“I mean, Cora was just … something else. I don’t think I would have turned out any differently than Regina did if I’d had a mom like Cora.” She wandered into the pasta aisle. “Did you learn anything in school?”

“Did I learn anything academic in school, or anything curse-related in school?”

“Ha. Either.”

“My school in New York was definitely way better than Storybrooke Middle School; I’m the only sixth grader who already knows any algebra. So I was a little bored today. And I didn’t learn anything about what’s going on with the town.”

“You know what’s weird?” she said, grabbing several boxes of pasta and jars of sauce. “David said he needed _another_ deputy.”

 _“Another_ deputy?” That got Henry’s attention. “I can’t even think of _anyone_ who’d be a deputy for him.”

“I was thinking maybe your dad,” she admitted. “But it seems so difficult to imagine.”

“I guess,” Henry replied. “I think it’s difficult to imagine anyone besides you and David in the sheriff’s office. You should text me as soon as you find out.”

“I’m not going to text you at school, Henry. Not unless it’s an emergency. You know that.” 

* * *

The following morning, as Henry moved through the halls between his math class and his history class, he felt his phone buzz. Wondering if there was, in fact, an emergency, he nearly dropped his backpack trying to fish his phone out of his pocket. It was a text from Emma. 

_It’s HOOK. The pirate is a DEPUTY. I CAN’T._

 


	4. The Deputy

After dropping Henry off at school, Emma swung by Granny’s for coffee and donuts. She knew how David took his coffee (cream, no sugar), but she didn’t know what the mysterious deputy preferred, and even if she did, it would have been a little creepy for her to “guess” the coffee orders of two strangers. So she settled for ordering hers with sugar and a little milk, and then she asked for a bunch of sugar and sweetener packets, and some little half-and-half containers.

Donuts were easier. Baker’s dozen, enough bear claws for everyone, and no jelly-filled. She knew how to make a good impression with donuts.

She was nervous as she pulled into the lot at the station. What was there to be really nervous about, though? David would be there, whoever the deputy was would be there, and they would probably hire her. Then she could get to work, figuring out how to break the curse.

When she walked in, the bullpen was empty, as were the cells, and David was in his office on the phone, looking very concerned. When he spotted her, he smiled a bit and raised his hand in greeting, and then pointed at the phone. That was fine—she could wait. She placed the coffee and donuts on her old desk—back when she was briefly Graham’s deputy—and took a sip of her beverage.

“Well, well, well,” said a familiar voice from the hallway. “If you’ve committed a crime, I would be _more_ than happy to take your confession.”

It was Hook. She looked up, and her mouth gaped slightly.

He had that same old insufferable grin on his face, and judging by the way he was looking at her, his type hadn’t changed a bit. But he was dressed in modern attire—jeans, button-down shirt, (actual, normal person) leather jacket, no jewelry—and he had his prosthetic on instead of his hook.

“I’m here to talk to David,” she said, choosing not to address his ridiculous comment.

“And just _who_ are you?” he asked, as though it were any of his business.

She was tempted to reply the way she had in Neverland _(wouldn’t you like to know),_ but the last thing she wanted to do was engage Hook in witty banter. That always ended with him pushing her boundaries just a little more—just enough that she would end up feeling lost and confused and uncomfortable and unsure—and she wasn’t in the mood. She already felt that way, with the curse erasing everyone’s memories.

“I’m Emma Swan,” she replied. She held out her hand to shake; there was no point in alienating this guy who (as far as he knew) had never met her before. “I just moved to town with my son.”

“Well, welcome to Storybrooke, Emma Swan,” he said warmly, shaking her hand. “I’m Dylan Smith.” She almost snorted at the cursed name.

“Oh good, you’ve met,” David said, finally done with his phone call. “Dylan, this is the woman I told you about over the phone.”

“Oh, excellent,” Hook said. “Ah, and I see she brought us refreshments. Wonderful.”

“Bear claws?” David asked. “I knew you’d fit right in, Emma.”

“Wha—wait,” she said, still trying to process what was going on. “Dylan’s your deputy?”

“No need to sound so critical of my skills,” Hook said around a mouthful of cinnamon donut. “You’ve hardly met me.”

“I, uh, sorry,” she said, trying to cover for her astonishment. “Anyway, I can give you my employment history, if you need to check it out.”

“To be honest,” David said, adding half-and-half to a cup of coffee, “you seem pretty trustworthy. And we can use the help even if you’re not very good at being a cop.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine at it,” she said drily.

“Don’t worry, lass,” Hook said. “Davey here isn’t known for his tact.”

David pulled a deputy badge from the drawer of the desk. “Here, why don’t you put this on?” He continued talking as she did so. “So, Deputy Swan, let’s fill you in. Over the past few days, we’ve had several residents disappear. Making matters worse, some of the people who’ve gone looking for them have also gone missing.”

“We’ve also had some unknown animal sightings,” Hook interjected. “People are starting to avoid going outside unless absolutely necessary. The forest along the edge of the town is typically teeming with hikers and nature lovers, but not lately.”

“I talked with Dylan last night,” David said, “and we agreed that the two of you will be in charge of patrol together, and I’d like for you both to focus on these strange occurrences. In the meantime, I’ll handle office work and phone calls, and the more mundane issues, like arresting people for brawling at the Rabbit Hole or something.” He sipped his coffee. “Does that sound like something that works for you, Emma?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I’m ready to get started.”

He nodded. “All right!” He grabbed a set of keys from the wall. “These are for your squad car. We only have two, so you and Dylan will have to share, but you’re always welcome to drive your own vehicle if you’d like. Or you can patrol together—whatever works. It’s going to take another couple days before I can issue a weapon.”

“I’ve got my own I can use in the meantime,” she offered, and he nodded in approval.

“Well, after I’ve had another pastry, I’ll be ready to start my patrol,” Hook said. “Perhaps our newest deputy should come with me for the first week or two; I could show her around our lovely little town.”

“Sounds good,” David said. “I’m going to fill out the necessary paperwork; Emma, when you guys are back for lunch, you can fill out your info and sign some forms.”

“Okay,” she said. “Let me just run to the bathroom, and I’ll be ready.”

Once in the ladies’ room, she frantically texted Henry. She _knew_ she said she wouldn’t, but it was just too absurd. _It’s HOOK. The pirate is a DEPUTY. I CAN’T._

Hook was a _deputy._ Tasked with upholding the law! Friends—it seemed—with David! He was wearing _normal_ clothes!

She could imagine the Hook she knew reacting to the situation. _Swan, what the bloody hell am I wearing? Why does your father want to get drinks with me? This is absurd! What have you done with my hook?_

Her phone beeped. _Pics or it didn’t happen, Mom._

She exited the bathroom to find Hook leaning against the wall immediately outside the door. “Ready, Deputy Swan?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes,” she replied. “Although if you don’t mind, I’d like to stop by my apartment to get my gun.”

“Of course,” he said. “After you.” He gestured down the hallway.

Hook was surprisingly good company as they drove around Storybrooke, mostly keeping his innuendo to a minimum as he pointed out various landmarks and side streets. “I must admit that I’ve no children of my own, nor do I know that many children,” he said as they drove. “So I’m not exactly the best person to tell you about what in this town might interest your boy. How old is he?”

“He’s twelve,” she answered, and she glanced at him to see his reaction.

“Then I certainly have no idea,” he replied, not batting an eye. “The only child I’ve spent any time with is young Alex—Mark Green’s son—and he’s only four years old. So I’m reasonably sure that he and your son have different interests.”

“What’s their story?” she asked. “I mean, it’s called Gold’s Pawn Shop. Green said he died?”

“Well, disappeared, more specifically,” Hook clarified. “We investigated, of course, and found no sign of him. If it weren’t for his shop, and the fact that he owned just about every property in this town, it would have been as if he hadn’t even existed. This was a long time ago,” he clarified. “That is, his disappearance isn’t part of the most recent spate.”

“Good to know. So, how did Green come into the shop?”

He frowned. “To be honest, lass, I’ve no real clue. Davey might have some idea. I just recall that he just sort of took up the mantle, so to speak. I thought that Madam Mayor—that’s Regina Mills—might have had something to do with it, but that’s just a theory of mine.”

“You spend time with him and his son?”

He chuckled. “It’s your first day on the job, and you’re already working on your interrogation skills. Is that right?”

“I’m just trying to get an idea of what the town is like,” she said quickly. “You know, getting to know people. Might as well start with the guy sitting next to me.”

“I’m quite pleased that you’d like to get to know me, Swan,” he said, flashing her a quick smile before setting his eyes back on the road. “Mark’s my landlord—of course, he’s everyone’s landlord—so I know the man. I’ve been known to strike up a conversation with him when I run into him. His son, for the moment, has decided he’s to become a lawman when he grows up, so Mark’s brought him to the station a few times.”

“I see.”

“What about you, Swan?”

“I thought you were supposed to be showing me around and helping me get to know the town.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t get to know you. Davey said you were a bail bondsperson?”

“Yep,” she answered.

“Whereabouts?” he asked, ignoring the brevity of her initial answer.

“Boston for a while, and then New York. So how many disappearances have there been?”

“Seven so far,” he said. “The first one was five days ago. Three more people disappeared four days ago, one more three days ago, and two more two days ago.”

“Who’s missing?”

He laughed. “No one you’d know?” he said, but he phrased it like question. “They were all people who’ve lived here for years; I doubt they’d been to Boston or New York any time recently. You wouldn’t know them.”

“Maybe when we get back to the station, you can show me some files,” she suggested. “I might notice a pattern that you guys missed.”

“What, you think they’re being kidnapped?”

“I honestly don’t know what to think.” She stared at the window; they were driving slowly past Regina’s house.

“That’s the mayor’s house,” Hook said.

“I know,” she replied.

“How do you know?” he asked.

Whoops. “She welcomed us to town.” That was, at least, partially true.

Her phone beeped. _Break between classes, where are those pics??!!!_

“Boyfriend?” Hook asked, referring to her text.

“My son,” she replied. _Haven’t had a chance yet, on patrol._

“So no boyfriend?”

Was there a version of Hook, cursed or not, who wouldn’t pursue her relentlessly? “You’re a sheriff’s deputy,” she pointed out, irritated that he was bugging her about her relationship status. “So you should be able to think critically. It’s all part of investigating, right? Do you _think_ I have a boyfriend?”

“Well,” he said slowly, as if he were excited for the opportunity to discuss the subject, “you are unbelievably attractive, which tells me that you are likely highly sought after romantically. You’ve made it clear that your son comes first in your life. He’s twelve, and you can’t be older than …” he stole a glance at her, “thirty, which means you were very young when you had him. And it means that you likely raised him alone, and that you are very proud of your abilities as a mother. I’d guess that you’ve spent a long time trying to find a person whom you could deem worthy of joining your own little family.”

She swallowed—why was her mouth so dry all of a sudden? Hook could read her just as well as he could before this new curse. “So, _do_ you think I have a boyfriend?” she asked again, more quietly.

“I think you did. Things were probably getting serious, and then I’d hazard a guess that something happened. I’m not sure what—perhaps he proposed? Or became violent? Either way, you took your son and decided to make a fresh start somewhere else.”

“Well,” she said bitterly, her fingers shaking as she held her phone. She hoped she wouldn’t have to use her gun today, if she couldn’t stop trembling. “I suppose you are quite the observant deputy after all.”

He pulled over. She wasn’t sure why; they were on a random street in the heart of a residential part of town. Had she been truly new to Storybrooke, she’d wonder if there was some sort of den of crime that was well hidden, but she wasn’t really new. She knew there was nothing here. So why had they pulled over?

“Swan, I’m sorry.” Oh—that’s why he had pulled over. “That was entirely uncalled for on my part. I can be quite good at reading people—it’s why I’m a deputy in the first place—but that gives me no right to use that ability to embarrass or hurt you. I am so sorry.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, surprised at how quickly he’d apologized. She knew he meant it; he wasn’t lying. “It’s okay. We should probably keep going.”

“It’s nearly lunchtime,” he said. He was still staring at her, and he hadn’t shifted the car out of park. “Seeing as it is your first day today, and because I’ve made quite the ass of myself, I must insist that you allow me to treat you to lunch.”

“Sure,” she said, not willing to argue. He smiled and pulled away from the curb; even before it became clear from the route he was taking, she figured he was driving to Granny’s.

The thought of sitting across a table or booth from Hook, and having him read her like an open book, both terrified her and soothed her. On the one hand, she wasn’t ready to spring the truth behind her arrival in Storybrooke on anyone, and she was anxious that he’d be able to figure it out just from spending time with her. He’d already figured out part of the reason she’d left New York; it was only a matter of time before the rest followed.

But on the other hand, she felt desperately lonely. It had been less than a week since she and Henry had arrived in Storybrooke, and already the lack of recognition from the townsfolk was becoming unbearable. It was hard enough that she and Henry had to figure out why Storybrooke was back, _and_ it was hard enough that they had to break another curse. But to do it without the companionship of their loved ones was excruciating. Every day that went by with Regina not recognizing Henry, or David (and Mary Margaret, whom she still hadn’t run into) not recognizing her, they would only grow sadder.

Having Hook figure her out so easily made her feel like he knew her. It was an unexpected benefit of how well he read her thoughts and emotions.

When they arrived at Granny’s, Emma automatically slid into a booth, and Hook excused himself to talk to Granny for a moment. Emma used the opportunity to surreptitiously snap a photo of him as he turned to walk back to the table.

“Like what you see?” he asked, grinning wickedly.

She continued to hold her phone up awkwardly as she typed. “I’m texting my son, and the glare is awkward in this seat,” she lied. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t call her out. She quickly tapped out some text. _Jeans and everything!_

A waitress Emma didn’t recognize came over and took their orders. She almost asked where Ruby was, but remembered as she opened her mouth to speak that she wasn’t supposed to know who Ruby was in the first place.

“Something on your mind?” He’d noticed that she had almost said something.

“I realized it wasn’t any of my business,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t press the issue.

“What wasn’t?” Nope—she wasn’t so fortunate.

“What you were speaking to Granny about.”

His face darkened. “Mrs. Lucas? Her granddaughter Ruby went missing on Sunday.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. She felt cold; it had been one thing to know that people were missing, but it was an entirely different situation knowing that it was someone she knew and cared about. It also explained why Granny had been so unfriendly that evening; she’d been worried about where Ruby was. It seemed as if her concern hadn’t been unwarranted.

“Don’t be. You’re a deputy now, so it’s your business.” The waitress brought over water and coffee for both of them, and he took a sip of each. Emma did as well, after reaching for a handful of sugar packets.

“Car accident,” he said suddenly. She had been sipping her coffee, testing its sweetness, and almost choked in surprise when he spoke.

“What?”

He waved his left arm. “Lost it in a car accident.”

“I didn’t ask,” she reminded him.

“But you might have,” he suggested.

“No, I wouldn’t have.” She thought back to their conversation in the Enchanted Forest, when she’d been trapped in Rumplestiltskin’s cell.

He was quiet after that, and their food arrived soon after. After busying themselves with lunch for several minutes, he spoke again. “I was suspected in Gold’s disappearance.”

“Why?” If there had been no new curse, she would have known why. But while she would have suspected Hook, she wouldn’t have suspected Dylan Smith.

“He blamed me for his wife’s death,” he said sadly. “She died in the same accident.” He briefly lifted his left arm again.

She took a sip of water. “Was it your fault?”

“No,” he said. “But it should have been.”

“I don’t understand.”

He shook his head. “I mean, it wasn’t my fault. She ran a stop sign. I had the right of way and couldn’t stop in time. Gold … he believed I was driving drunk and that the only reason I hadn’t been arrested and charged was that I was a deputy. He made life very difficult for me afterwards—I couldn’t find an apartment because he owned them all, so I was sleeping in one of the cells in the station for a while.”

That would explain why he’d been a suspect. But it didn’t explain something else. “Why are you telling me all this?” she asked as their food arrived.

He pressed his lips together before answering. “I learned some very personal, private things about you today—things that were not meant for me to know. I thought it was only fair that you know some similar information about me.” He ate a French fry, and then shrugged at her.

“Well,” she said after a moment, as she tried to find the right words to say. “I’d consider that to be good form.” She flicked her eyes onto his face to catch his reaction to one of his favorite terms.

He chuckled. “‘Good form?’” he asked. “Who are you, Captain James Hook?”

She shrugged and began to focus on her food again. At least he got the reference.

 


	5. The Lunch Invitation

“He’s a _pirate.”_ Henry was still laughing. He and Emma were making a list of items they’d still need to purchase for the apartment, even once their personal effects had arrived from New York. Henry kept losing his concentration and laughing over the identity of the deputy.

“I know,” she said, chuckling along. “I keep checking that photo I took just to make sure I didn’t hallucinate.”

“When we break the curse, he’s going to be so surprised that he was upholding the law!”

“I’ll admit, he is very perceptive,” she acknowledged. “It’s an important quality in a sheriff’s deputy.”

“What do you mean?” She paused, unsure of whether or not to tell Henry what had happened during patrol that morning. He picked up on her silence. “Mom, you’re not going to lie, are you?”

She smiled. “No. He was able to guess that you and I had left New York because of a break-up. In fact, he guessed that the break-up had occurred either because the guy had proposed, or because of a physical attack.”

Henry snorted, and she was relieved that he didn’t find the situation as upsetting as she did. “Did you tell him it was because of both?”

“No, but he probably guessed based on my reaction. Oh, crap, we need curtains,” she realized, making a note on the list. “And curtain rods.”

“He and Gramps get along?”

“Yeah. They seem to be friends.”

“That’s so weird.”

“Well, I thought so, too, but then I thought back to what happened in Neverland. Hook saved David’s life, and after that, they seemed to get along a little more.”

“Huh. Still, it sounds like they weren’t _really_ friends the way they are now. So that’ll be funny when the curse breaks.”

“You know, I was thinking about inviting David and Mary Margaret over for dinner tomorrow night. Do you think that would be okay with you?”

He answered nearly right away, but she could still sense his hesitation. “Of course—why wouldn’t it be?”

“Henry,” she said gently. “I know how you feel about seeing your mom and not having her recognize you. It’s not going to be any easier to see your grandparents.”

“Yeah, but what am I going to do? Avoid them forever?” He shrugged. “Besides, I’ve been hit with the sleeping curse before. This can’t be any worse.”

“But I can try to protect you from some of this,” she reminded him. “This isn’t something you have to suffer through because, I don’t know … it builds character or something.” That elicited a chuckle from him, and she smiled.

* * *

 On Friday morning, she arrived at the station early after dropping Henry off at school. There was no sign of David yet, but Hook was already at his desk, feet in the air, tapping on his phone.

“Good morning, Swan,” he said as she entered. “Ready for another thrilling day of patrol?”

“Of course,” she replied. “Are you playing Angry Birds?”

“No,” he said indignantly, but based on the way his eyes shifted, and the speed with which he turned off his phone screen, she guessed that he had been. “I’m just going to use the bathroom, and then we can be off.”

While Hook was in the bathroom, though, the phone rang. David still hadn’t arrived, and with the strange goings-on, Emma wasn’t about to let it go to voicemail. “Hello? Storybrooke sheriff’s office,” she said.

“Who is this?” the voice on the other end demanded. Emma didn’t recognize the person’s voice.

“I’m Emma Swan, the new deputy.”

“Oh. Okay. Good, they hired more people.” But the person didn’t sound terribly thrilled. “I was driving to work this morning and spotted someone suspicious in the forest. With all the disappearances, I thought it’d be better safe than sorry to report it.”

“Thank you, we’ll absolutely look into it. Do you have a more specific address besides the forest?”

“Near the trail that leads up to that old wishing well,” the person said. “Do you know where that is?”

“Yep, we’ll check it out. Can I get your name please, for the report?” But the person had already hung up.

“What was that?” Hook had returned while she was on the phone, and he was leaning against the wall, eying her curiously.

“Someone called to report a suspicious person in the woods, near the hiking trail that leads to the wishing well. I guess we can start our patrol there.”

“Did you get their name? Davey prefers that we get people’s names.”

“She hung up,” Emma said. “Did you not hear me ask for it?”

“Well, we’ll check it out. Hopefully it’s not a prank. Ready to go?”

She zoned out a bit as they drove; he was explaining where they were and pointing out some landmarks again, to help her navigate the next time she was driving on her own. But she knew the town well enough (better than non-cursed Hook did, she reminded herself), and just nodded and “mmhmm”ed at the appropriate moments. She hadn’t recognized the voice on the phone, and that was irritating her.

“Here we are,” Hook said as they arrived at the base of the trail. “Ready to do some patrol on foot?”

“Pounding the proverbial pavement? Sure,” she replied. She stepped out of the squad car and made sure her gun was easily accessible. Hook handed her a baton.

“It’s always a good idea to have more than one weapon,” he said, smiling and patting his own baton at his hip. She thought about how he fought with both a cutlass and his hook and nodded as she took the offered baton.

“How is your son enjoying the town?” he asked as they made their way down the trail.

“He likes it so far. It’s very different from New York.”

“Must be hard for the lad to adjust to small town living after growing up in cities.”

“Well, we were only in New York for a year,” she admitted.

“And what about Boston?” he asked. “It’s not such a small city either.”

“There are neighborhoods that are more suburban than others,” she explained. “And Henry went to a private school outside Boston proper. It was more of an adjustment for him to start school in New York than it has been for him to start here.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. Henry _had_ gone to a school outside Boston proper—just _way_ outside Boston proper. And while she had lived (alone, without Henry) in a downtown apartment, there were plenty of parts of Boston and Greater Boston that felt more like a small town.

He seemed to accept her story, much to her relief. “Well, it’s always hard to start at a new school, especially halfway through the year. How’s he enjoying it so far?”

“He likes it. He keeps coming home and comparing what they’re teaching that he already knows, or what he was supposed to learn already but hasn’t. It’s keeping him on his toes, which is good for him.”

“Making any new friends yet?”

“A couple so far, but he’s still getting settled.”

He chuckled. “I meant you.”

“Oh.” She blushed. “No, not really.”

“Well, David and I will be in charge of fixing that for you, if you’ll allow it. We look out for each other. It’s a small town and a small department, so camaraderie is top priority.”

“I appreciate that.” And she did. She and Henry needed to get involved in Storybrooke; they needed to put down roots. Until they did that, the curse wasn’t ever going to get broken.

The patrol turned up nothing. After reaching the fountain, they returned back to the squad car, where Hook made a call to David to let him know what had happened. David agreed to see if he could figure out who made the call, in case it was a prank, and Emma and Hook resumed their patrol.

When they returned to the station, David was waiting with no news. “I’m not worried,” he said. “It probably wasn’t a prank. People have been pretty paranoid this week, so it was worth checking it out just in case.”

“Any more disappearances?” Hook asked.

“Nope. I re-interviewed as many people as possible this afternoon, though, and it sounds like the majority of people had some sort of business near the town line.”

“What do you mean?” Hook asked. Emma swallowed noisily. So, there was another problem with the town line—would she and Henry be able to cross if they needed to?

“Mrs. Lucas said that Ruby had planned to meet with friends by the town line; her friend Ashley was searching there a couple days later when she went missing. Leroy’s friend had been doing sign repairs. Chris had plans to take his fishing boat farther out than usual.” David frowned. “Basically, no one’s gone missing from their homes or from anywhere in the middle of town.”

“So they just wandered off?” Hook suggested. “I doubt it.”

“As do I. But either way, it’s a start.” He changed the subject. “With three of us now, I’ve come up with a new schedule for who’s on call on which nights and over the weekend.” He pulled out a sheet of paper. “I’m on call Monday night; Dylan, you’re on call Tuesday and Thursday, and Emma, you’re on call Wednesday night. Just bring the beeper with you in the morning to switch off. As for weekends, I’m on Friday night until 2pm on Saturday, Emma is from then until eleven in the morning on Sunday, and Dylan’s got the rest of the weekend. Emma, it should be easy to figure out how to get you the beeper on Saturdays, since we live just upstairs from you.”

“I guess we’ll figure out Sundays,” Emma said to Dylan, who grinned, but didn’t say anything.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Emma, and Dylan, see you on Monday!” David grinned and went into the office to get his coat and keys.

“Perhaps we could have breakfast on Sundays,” Hook suggested. “I imagine it would be an enjoyable routine.”

She rolled her eyes. “We’ll see.” He winked.

It felt a bit silly, driving separately from David even if they were going to the same apartment building at the end of the day. But Emma liked being able to drive Henry to school in the morning, and besides, it felt a little weird to suggest a carpool to David when she’d (supposedly) only known him for a few days.

As they each stepped out of their cars and walked to the door, she caught up with him. “So, my son and I would love to have you and your wife for dinner, if you’d like. Maybe tomorrow evening.” He seemed amused, which caught her off guard. “We figure the best way to get to know everyone is to just sort of throw ourselves in, you know?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he said, grinning. “But you and your son should come to our place. Mary Margaret loves to cook, and besides, we’re the ones who should be welcoming _you_ to town. Why don’t you come by for lunch tomorrow? It’ll be relaxing, and then I can hand off the beeper.”

“That sounds wonderful.” And it was a little bit of a relief, since the shipment of belongings, including all of her cookware and dinnerware necessary to host a meal, had only been due to arrive that afternoon. Sure enough, as she and David climbed the stairs, there was a mountain of boxes outside the door, which was open.

“Looks like your entire apartment has arrived,” David said.

“Hey!” Henry had practically sprinted to the door at the sound of David’s voice. His eyes were wide, but he was clearly trying to look like he’d never seen his grandfather before. “I’m Henry,” he said. “I’m Emma’s son. You must be David.”

“I am,” David replied, holding out his hand to shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Henry. You up for lunch tomorrow, with me and my wife?”

“Uh, sure,” Henry said, still smiling a little too widely. “Can’t wait! Okay, Mom, I need your help with all these boxes.”

He was clearly ready for David to leave, but David was oblivious. “Let me help you with all this,” he said, and before Emma could say no thank you and make some excuse, her father began lifting boxes. It was probably for the best anyway—David was hoisting boxes filled with books as if they were filled with pillows, and the sooner all the boxes were inside, the sooner they could get to unpacking.

After David left, Emma immediately hugged Henry. “How are you doing, kid?”

“I’m okay,” he said. She pulled away and gave him a skeptical look. “No, I mean it,” he continued. “I mean, it was hard, but it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. And I can’t hide from everyone forever. It’ll get easier.”

“That’s a good attitude,” she said, hugging him again. “I hope it’s contagious because I sure could use it.”

She began sorting through the labels on boxes; her friend from New York who had packed everything for them had done a meticulous job marking which boxes contained which belongings. It was a good thing, too. One box, which was labeled “EMMA’S STUFF (HENRY DO NOT OPEN THIS),” contained all of her lingerie, and the items that she kept in the bottom drawer of her nightstand. She didn’t know what was in the box labeled “HENRY ONLY (EMMA DON’T LOOK),” and she felt like she was _entitled_ to know as his mother. But she preferred not to set a double standard, and figured she probably didn’t want to know anyway.

They spent the rest of the night unpacking. It was relaxing for both of them; arguing over which cabinet was the best one for cups and which one was the best for plates and bowls offered a distraction from the curse-breaking situation. Figuring out where to put DVDs meant that they weren’t thinking about lunch with David and Mary Margaret. Trying to maximize space in the bathroom for toiletries prevented them from worrying about the mysterious disappearances.

* * *

The next morning, when Emma and Henry walked up to the next floor, Hook was already there, knocking on the door. “Ah, I see you’re invited to lunch as well.” He stuck out his hand. “You must be Henry—I’m Dylan. I work with your mother.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dylan,” Henry said politely. Emma caught the cues that indicated that Henry was trying very hard not to laugh.

David opened the door. “Oh, great, you’re all here! That worked out nicely. Please come in.” Hook had clearly been to the loft plenty of times; he immediately threw his jacket on a hook by the door and strode over to the kitchen to greet Mary Margaret, whose back was turned.

“I’ll take your coats,” David offered. “I figure I should be as welcoming as possible so you don’t get scared off.”

“Thank you,” Emma said, handing off her coat and helping Henry with his. “But we don’t scare that easily.”

“Oh, hi!” Mary Margaret turned around. It was unnerving to see her so happy to see them, while also not recognizing them. “You must be Emma and Henry. I’m Mary Margaret—it’s so nice to meet you.” She wiped her hands on a dish towel and then stepped out from behind the counter.

She was pregnant. Emma felt Henry stiffen beside her.

Mary Margaret wasn’t just barely showing, either—she was at least eight months pregnant, maybe even near her due date. It was not the best way for Emma to find out that she was going to be a big sister, or for Henry to find out that he was going to be a nephew. But Emma reached down and squeezed Henry’s hand: there was nothing they could say right now.

Besides the shock of seeing Mary Margaret pregnant, lunch went surprisingly smoothly. Emma made sure to ask lots of non-invasive questions about Mary Margaret’s pregnancy and her and David’s impending parenthood. Henry politely answered questions about how he liked school, and how small town living compared to New York. Emma had warned him about the fib she’d told about him going to a private school in the suburbs outside of Boston, and she was a little alarmed (but also grateful) at how fluently her son lied about what that school had been like.

When lunch ended, David handed Emma the beeper, Mary Margaret hugged both her and Henry and thanked them for coming, and Hook walked them out. To Emma’s surprise, Hook stopped with them in front of the door to their apartment.

“Sorry,” he said, eyes flicking to Henry for a moment. “I just need to make arrangements for getting the beeper tomorrow at eleven. I’d be happy to stop by here, if that works for you.”

“That’s fine,” she said, unlocking the apartment door. “I’ll see you then.”

“You should have breakfast with us,” Henry interrupted. “We’ll make pancakes.”

Hook grinned, as if he’d known all along Henry would make the offer. “It would be both rude and foolish of me to refuse that invitation. I’ll see you for pancakes at eleven tomorrow.”

“At ten,” Emma corrected, rolling her eyes. She wasn’t going to wait that long to eat breakfast anyway. “See you tomorrow.”

Once the door was shut, and she checked the peephole to confirm Hook was gone, she turned to Henry. “Why did you do that?”

“What?” he asked, shrugging. “I kind of like this version of Hook. I like that I’m not suspicious that he’s secretly working against us. I think it would be fun to have him over.”

“Well, you’re in charge of pancakes, then,” she said.

“Fine,” he replied, “as long as you’re okay with the mess that’s gonna make.”

“Fine. I’ll make them. But we’ve got a lot of cleaning and unpacking to do before then.”

By the time Hook arrived the next morning, the apartment was entirely unpacked and sparkling clean. Green hadn’t rented it to them in terrible condition, but the whole place had been just dusty and grimy enough—especially compared to their New York apartment—that neither Emma nor Henry was comfortable with its initial state.

Henry welcomed Hook in, since Emma was in the middle of flipping pancakes. “We only have butter and regular syrup,” she said apologetically. “No fruit toppings or whipped cream or anything fancy.”

“I’m a traditional pancake man,” he said happily. “Syrup is all I need. Can I give you a hand?” She raised an eyebrow. “Metaphorically speaking, Swan, as I can’t really spare this one permanently.”

“You can help me set the table,” Henry said, showing him to the relevant kitchen drawers.

Over the meal, Hook kept the conversation light. Instead of asking all about Emma and Henry’s lives before Storybrooke, he kept the focus on mundane topics, such as the curtains they’d hung in the apartment, and whether or not they liked any particular type of music. She appreciated the superficial nature of the conversation, and expected that Henry did as well; lying constantly had been getting exhausting. She lost track of time entirely, until the sheriff’s beeper went off.

“And we were having such a pleasant meal,” Hook sighed with a smile. He checked the watch on his right wrist. “It’s nearly noon, so I suppose that’s my call.” He held out his hand, and Emma unclipped the beeper from her jean pocket and placed it in his palm. “Thanks for breakfast; I had a lovely time, and next time, I’ll be sure to help clean up.”

“Next time?” she asked, and he flashed that same grin, but he was already on his way out the door.

“That was fun,” Henry said. “See? Aren’t you glad I invited him over?”

She smiled at him. “Are you sure _you_ are? Because you’re stuck with the dishes, kid.”

He was washing the dishes, and she was wiping down the table when he spoke up. “Hey, Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“We have to do a project at school where we interview someone and, like, shadow them and see what their work is like.”

“Oh yeah? That sounds fun.”

“Yeah. I was thinking, if it was okay with you—and with her obviously—maybe ... I could shadow my mom? I’d just walk over to town hall after school; I’d just need a ride home later.”

She looked up at him and saw the fear and sadness on his face. She wasn’t sure what was more upsetting: that he was in such a terrible situation and needed this sort of excuse to see his mother … or that he was so nervous about asking her if he was even allowed to.

“I think that would be great,” she said, smiling. And she did.

 


	6. The Flying Monkey

Monday morning, Emma arrived at the station to find David and Hook in the midst of a heated conversation. “I’m sorry—am I late?” she asked, glancing up at the station’s clock. It wasn’t quite nine o’clock; they had simple arrived early.

“Sorry, we thought to call you yesterday but we figured it could wait till today,” David said, turning to her.

“You can keep me in the loop,” she said bitterly. “It’s hard to be a deputy when I’m not.”

“Our fearless leader here just doesn’t want everyone in town to find out that I’m completely mad,” Hook said angrily.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come _on,_ Dylan, I didn’t say you were crazy.”

“You might not have _said_ ‘crazy,’ Davey, but you’re clearly thinking it.”

“I just think there has to be another explanation—”

“And I agree, but figuring _out_ an explanation means _investigating—”_

“And I _agree,_ but that doesn’t mean putting out flyers—”

“I didn’t _suggest_ flyers, mate, don’t be daft—”

“Both of you, just _shut up, will you?”_ Emma interrupted. Both did, and both looked at her with surprise. “Now, both of you, sit down. H—Dylan, tell me what happened yesterday.” David began to interrupt, perhaps to preface Hook’s story, but she glared at him and he closed his mouth and stared at his hands.

“I responded to that call I received while at your apartment,” Hook began.

“Why were you at her apartment?” David asked with confusion, but both Emma and Hook glared this time, and he didn’t say anything further.

Hook continued. “It was another call about a suspicious person in the forest, and once again, the person did not leave any personal information. I went to the location and patrolled the area. At first, I found nothing. But then, something attacked me.” He removed his waistcoat and began unbuttoning his shirt. “As you can see, I clearly did not hallucinate anything.” He couldn’t remove his shirt easily, since he was wearing his prosthetic, but he managed to push aside his shirt and pull up the sleeve of his undershirt enough to show Emma what he and David had been arguing about.

There were mean red claw marks all over his left shoulder. “And my favorite jacket is ruined, _by the way,”_ he growled, sounding more irritated at the loss of his coat than the injury he’d sustained.

“Have you gone to the hospital?” Emma asked.

“No,” he admitted slowly.

“Why not?”

“Because he doesn’t want everyone to think he’s crazy,” David said, unhelpfully.

“I am _not_ crazy!”

“Why would people think he’s crazy?”

“Go on,” David said. “Tell her what attacked you.”

Hook’s mouth was a set, thin line for a moment. “It was a monkey.”

“Not just any monkey,” David said bitterly. “A _flying_ monkey.”

“You weren’t there!” Hook said angrily. “I had to beat the shit out of the beast with my baton!”

“Which has mysteriously gone missing,” David said. He lowered his voice. “Dylan, you haven’t been … I mean, you’ve worked so hard …”

“I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol in years! I was completely sober!” He violently buttoned his shirt one-handed threw his waistcoat back on. “Clearly, you believe I’m in need of a mental health break, so I’ll be on my way, _sheriff.”_ He stormed out, his open vest flapping as he left.

“I’ll talk to him,” Emma said quickly, and she followed the pirate before David could argue.

“Dylan, wait!” she called after him as he approached his car. She was never going to get used to calling him “Dylan,” even at this rate.

“Swan, I know I’m trying to get to know you and everything, but this is really not the best time for me.” He slammed his car door. She quickly ran to the other side and began fruitlessly pulling at the locked door. He rolled his eyes at her, then shook his head, _then_ flipped her off … and then unlocked the door.

“Thanks,” she said.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said.

“Well, we’re going to,” she told him. “Take me somewhere private.”

He didn’t move. “Normally, I’d be delighted at this opportunity to _really_ get to know you, Swan. But you’ve found one of the few circumstances under which I am not in the mood.”

That earned him a glare. “Take me somewhere private _now_ or I’ll call an ambulance and force you to go to the hospital.”

Five minutes later, they arrived at a small three-family house near the center of town. As they walked inside the foyer, she spotted “D. Smith” on the mailbox for the third floor; they were at his apartment.

He welcomed her into his meticulously clean studio apartment, which was free of any clutter, but also nearly free of any personal effects. It reminded her of the clean efficiency of the Jolly Roger, and she wondered if Dylan Smith felt any affinity for the sea. There was very little decor, and so no way to really indicate one way or the other. She briefly wondered where the Jolly Roger was.

“I’m not going to hurt myself,” he said uncertainly, “if that’s why you insisted on coming with me.”

“You were right about why Henry and I left New York,” she said.

“You want to talk about that now?” he asked wearily. Then, with curiosity, “Which part?”

“Both. The guy I was seeing—he proposed,” she said. “I said no.”

“And he struck you?” he asked softly.

“Yes.”

“You seem the kind of person who’s not afraid to report a man like that to the police,” Hook suggested, kindly not questioning how this was relevant to his situation. “May I ask why you chose to leave instead? Are you hiding from him?”

“He’s not a threat anymore,” she said. She took a deep breath. “He’s not a threat anymore because after I said no, he turned into a flying monkey and he attacked me.”

The apartment was silent for what was likely only a few seconds, but felt like hours.

“So you don’t think I’m crazy,” Hook said finally.

“No, I don’t,” she replied.

“Did you manage to destroy the beast in New York?”

“Yes, I think so. Either way, I don’t think I brought it with me or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Well, my knowledge of flying monkeys is rather limited,” he admitted sarcastically. “But I don’t understand how—how could they be real?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. But I guess they are. There’s no reason for either of us to feel like we’re crazy. We’re clearly not.”

“Does your son know that’s why you left?”

“He does. He was with me when it happened.”

“Bloody hell. And what does he think?”

“The same thing I do, which isn’t much.”

He frowned. “Why did you come to Storybrooke?”

“We wanted a fresh start.”

“But why _here?_ No one ever comes here.” He stood and stepped over to her. “In fact, you and your son are the only strangers I’ve ever known. That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Weird that we came here, or weird that other people haven’t?” she asked nervously.

“Either.” He paused. “Or both.”

“I understand if you’re not up for visiting the hospital,” she said, changing the subject. “I’ll come by later with a first aid kit.”

“I’ve still got one good arm, Swan; I can take care of my own shoulder.”

“Well, I’m coming over later with a first aid kit anyway, so deal with it. I’ll call you later to let you know when I’m on my way over.” She headed for the door.

“Thanks, Swan,” he said softly. “For believing me.”

Believing. She had forgotten. Believing was necessary. She needed belief.

“It’s nothing,” she replied.

* * *

 The walk back to the station was a good forty-five minutes on foot, so she called David along the way. “He’s all squared away, and I’m going to check on him later.”

“I’m sorry about his behavior, Emma. I don’t want you to—”

“Listen, it’s fine. I think you need to be a little kinder to him. That’s all he needs right now. Besides,” she added, “has Dylan ever made this kind of stuff up before?”

“Not like this, exactly,” he replied. “I mean … well, listen, this is kind of nobody’s business, if you understand what I mean, but Dylan is a recovering alcoholic. He used to get really drunk and claim ridiculous things had happened.”

“But he said he’s been sober for a while. And he seems pretty sober to me.”

“Yeah, I mean, I thought so, too. But Emma—flying monkeys?”

“We’ll find another explanation. Anyway, I’m walking back now, and then I’ll take the squad car out on patrol.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Patrol was uneventful, especially since most people were avoiding the town lines; people had begun to pick up on the pattern of disappearances. Emma did stop by where Hook had confronted the flying monkey; she spotted a few tufts of fur and loose feathers, which she photographed and collected to show to David. Hook’s baton was nowhere to be found.

At the end of her shift, after confirming with Henry that he was safe (he said he was still with Regina and that he was going to grab dinner with her), she drove over to Hook’s place, armed with the evidence and photographs, as well as a first aid kit and a couple of burgers from Granny’s. He seemed a little happy to see her as she opened the door, although he gave her a withering look when he spotted the first aid kit. “Swan, I told you, I don’t need to be coddled.”

“It can’t hurt,” she said. “Besides, I brought burgers to make up for it.”

They ate first—he’d skipped lunch while wallowing in his own misery, and she’d been busy enough on patrol that she’d only stopped for coffee and a donut. She then let him look over the evidence she’d found while she cleaned the angry cuts on his shoulder. Instead of just pushing aside his clothes, like he had at the station, he stripped to the waist. It was necessary, but it was also quite distracting. Hook had always worn shirts that dipped low enough to show off a little chest hair, but seeing him entirely shirtless was new. She wasn’t exactly surprised by his physique, but it was hard to stop stealing glances.

“So, flying monkeys,” he said. “I suppose we should be on the look out for the Wicked Witch?”

His tone suggested that he probably wouldn’t believe that he was Captain Hook, or that a fairytale princess was currently dressing the wound on his shoulder. “I think so. Henry and I think that maybe my ex was under orders to keep tabs on me. I’ve got no idea what she could possibly want.”

“Did you find my baton?” he asked.

“I didn’t.” He groaned miserably. “What’s wrong? You can get a new one.”

“I don’t mean to add to the unbelievable nature of this situation,” he said. “But I saw the damn thing disappear. I’d hoped I’d imagined it.”

“It just vanished?”

“Well … in a puff of green smoke.”

“Definitely sounds like the Wicked Witch,” Emma said. “There, you’re all set. I just wonder what she wants.”

“Swan, did you hear what I just said?”

“Yeah, it disappeared in a puff of green smoke. Listen, Dylan, both of us were attacked by flying monkeys. I think it’s time we just accepted that this a bit of a supernatural situation, and stopped trying to analyze it.”

“But it’s …” He searched her face, as if he expected her to burst into giggles at any moment (as if she even giggled ever—please). “It’s mad, Emma.”

“I should go,” she said. “Henry should be home soon. Call me if you need me, okay?”

Once in her car, she texted Henry to let him know that she was on her way home, and that they really needed to talk. He replied that he was already home, and he’d see her soon.


	7. The Mayor

Henry wondered if there existed a word that meant something along the lines of, “I’m so glad I did this because it was a good decision, but oh my god why did I do this because it was a terrible idea.” Because that’s how he felt sitting across from the mayor.

He knew that Emma sort of understood how he was feeling because she had a similar experience with David and Mary Margaret. But it wasn’t _really_ the same. She hadn’t known her parents until recently; she hadn’t grown up with them. This was different.

Regina had raised him; for most of his life, she was his one and only parent. It might have taken her a while to really learn how to love him the way he needed to be loved—the way Emma loved him—but she _did._ And he felt it. And he missed it.

And so sitting in front of her and being seen as just the new boy in town, curious about the art of being mayor for part of a school project (he’d made up), made him feel dizzy and sick. But he had to do it. He had to see his mom, and this was the best excuse he’d come up with. He knew she’d do the same if the situation were reversed.

“Well, Henry,” she said kindly to him, “I’d love to show you around my office a bit, but I’ve actually got some meetings coming up. You’re welcome to sit in on them if you’d like.”

“That sounds great, Mayor Mills,” he said, smiling as brightly as he could. Maybe the meetings would be interesting. Maybe there would be clues for Operation Cobra (they _really_ needed a new name for that). But either way, he just _missed_ her. This time spent with her was better than nothing.

Most of the meetings were pretty dull, although Grumpy came in at one point to ask about the disappearances around town.

“Leroy, I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do,” Regina said, sounding both genuine and frustrated. This must not have been the first meeting she had with the dwarf. “I’ve already alerted Sheriff Nolan, and I know that he’s investigating. I heard he even took on a new deputy.”

“There’s gotta be more you can do,” he replied bitterly. “What else are you good for? My tax dollars pay your salary!”

“And they pay for the sheriff’s department as well.” Her demeanor grew colder, and Henry could sense the Evil Queen deciding she’d had enough. “And I hope I don’t have to call them after I ask you to leave.” That shut Grumpy up, and he left.

The next meeting was with a woman that Henry didn’t recognize. “Oh, Mayor Mills, I didn’t realize you had company,” she said, looking nervously at Henry. “Shall I come back another time?”

“Ms. Spiros, please have a seat,” Regina said, gesturing at the chair in front of the desk. “Henry Swan here is a student from Storybrooke Middle School working on a project.” She smiled brightly at him. “He’s shadowing me this week and writing about what it’s like to be mayor.”

Ms. Spiros didn’t sit down. “I’d be happy to reschedule,” she said.

“I assure you that Henry isn’t recording any details of these meetings,” Regina said quickly, and her glance to Henry clearly read, _And you_ aren’t, _right?_ Well, he wasn’t, but he was certainly going to report back to Emma. Not that Regina or Ms. Spiros needed to know that.

“You can look over my notes afterwards,” he offered to the stranger. “Just to make sure.”

“Will the boy be here all week?” Ms. Spiros asked Regina, but she kept narrow eyes on Henry. “I’m afraid that I must speak to you in private, and it’s very urgent.”

Regina sighed. “How about tomorrow? Same time.”

Ms. Spiros nodded. “Thank you for your flexibility.” And she turned and practically stormed out.

“I’m sorry,” Henry said immediately.

“Oh, don’t be!” Regina seemed surprised at his apology.  “That was quite strange, to be honest. Anyway, maybe tomorrow I’ll find something you can do in the offices downstairs or something. Your project won’t have to suffer.”

They passed the time before her next meeting by talking about how school was going (a topic he was really sick of at this point), and about his favorite parts of living in New York and growing up in Boston. He was in the middle of telling her about seeing a playoff game when he was six (although he hadn’t really seen it—it was part of the fake memories she’d created for him) when Regina’s next appointment arrived.

“Ah, Henry!” It was Mr. Green from the pawn shop. “Will you be acting as the scribe for our meeting?” He grinned at Regina. “Do you really think I’d be so terribly difficult that you’d need a witness?”

“Sit down, Mark,” she said. She sounded a little irritated, but it wasn’t a flavor of irritated Henry had heard before. She almost sounded like she was also glad to see Mr. Green. “Henry’s here for a school project. It has nothing to do with you.”

“I see,” he said. “Well, let’s get down to business, if you will. You wanted to talk about the library.”

“It’s a little absurd that the library is privately owned,” Regina said. “The whole point of a library is that it’s supposed to be publicly funded, meant for public use.”

“Does it make that much of a difference?” Mr. Green asked. “Does it truly matter who’s paying for it—the town or me? And I thought that you’d appreciate that you don’t have to carry such a financial burden. That building is in significant need of repairs.”

“I know,” Regina said patiently. “Repairs which _you_ could make, and repairs which you don’t make. Mark, the building’s been closed for renovations and improvements for years. If I get one more phone call from Ms. French asking me when she can get back to work, I’m going to seriously lose it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be the cause of you losing it,” Mr. Green said, smiling. “Of course, Ms. French is free to find employment elsewhere, or simply opt out of any sort of job; I understand that Gold’s will left her a considerable amount of money.”

“It’s not about employment. The town needs its library open. I’m even willing to buy it from you.”

Mr. Green seemed to act a little surprised; Henry suspected that he’d been expecting the offer, but was pretending he hadn’t. “Well, I’ll need time to consider that. How much would you be willing to offer?”

“Thirty-thousand dollars.”

“Why so little?”

“I need to set aside money for repairs and renovations,” Regina pointed out. “And we can’t rely solely on book donations to restock the shelves. I’m sure we can staff with volunteers, if that helps you to understand how I’m trying to budget this project.”

Mr. Green smiled. “Well, I’ll think about it. Same time tomorrow?”

“Sure,” she said, and she smiled, too. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mark.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turned to Henry. “Good to see you again, Henry; give my best to your mother for me.”

“I will,” he said. Once the door closed, he turned to Regina. “Do you think he’ll take the offer?”

She shrugged. “Probably. Though I have to admit, I’m never quite sure with him. Sometimes, he manages to be pretty charming, but other times, he seems to prefer to ruffle my feathers.”

“He’ll be back tomorrow, right?”

“He will. He actually comes by every afternoon to talk business.”

That was a little odd. How could there be _that_ much business to discuss on a regular basis between a pawn shop owner and landlord, and the mayor of town? “Can I sit in on tomorrow’s meeting?” he asked. “I mean, as a follow up about the library stuff. It would be great for the project.”

“Of course.” She smiled at him. “I’ll come get you after I meet with Ms. Spiros.” She checked her watch. “Oh, wow, it’s getting late. It’s practically dinner time. Do you need a ride home?”

“Let me check,” he said, pulling his phone out. As soon as he activated the screen, a text from Emma appeared, asking for an update. _Fine, still with Regina—getting dinner, okay?_ he asked.

_Sure, hope it goes well. Text when you get home if I’m not already there._

“Huh, it sounds like my mom has to work late,” he lied, infusing his words with disappointment and sadness. “That’s too bad—we were supposed to get dinner at Granny’s tonight.”

“Oh?” Regina asked. “Well, you know, I don’t have dinner plans. Why don’t I treat you to dinner?”

“That sounds great,” he said, as though her offer had been unexpected. Sometimes, there were benefits to knowing someone this well, even if they didn’t realize it.

* * *

 He was still on cloud nine from having dinner with his mom when he arrived back at the apartment. He was startled to find Emma pacing back and forth. “Oh, thank god, you’re home,” she said, sagging with relief.

“You told me to text you when I got home,” he reminded her. “That’s why I didn’t update you.”

“Oh, that’s not it,” she said quickly. “No, it’s just … something happened yesterday. I just found out today. It’s weird. You might want to sit.”

He did. “Mom, what’s going on?”

“You know how Hook got a call yesterday at the end of breakfast?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, he ended up being attacked by a flying monkey.”

“What?!”

“I know, I know!” she said, holding her hands out to quiet him. “He’s really upset about it, too—David thinks he hallucinated.”

“This is going to make it harder to investigate,” he groaned.

“Well, maybe,” she said, “But maybe not.”

“Why not?”

“Remember what it took to break the curse last time?”

“True Love’s Kiss?”

“It wasn’t _just_ the kiss, Henry. I had to believe in magic. I had to believe the curse was real, and _then_ I had to kiss you.”

“So you’re saying that we need to get someone to believe, and then break the curse with the kiss?”

“I guess so. _And_ it has to be someone we truly love, and they have to truly love us back.” She sat down and exhaled at the same time, which made her sound like she was deflating. “We definitely need to work on your mom in that case.”

“Or your parents, too.”

“I don’t know,” she said sadly. “Hook seems pretty convinced about the flying monkeys, but David thinks he’s bonkers. He won’t even humor him about it to make him feel better.”

Henry chuckled. “Then maybe you have to kiss Hook, Mom.” She shifted uncomfortably and turned beet red. “Whoa, _did_ you kiss Hook?”

“No,” she mumbled. But he had inherited enough of her superpower that he wasn’t fooled.

“You did!”

“Fine! We kissed! It was in Neverland. Happy?”

“Way to go, Mom.” He laughed. “‘Hook, hook, give us the hook!’ Was it bangarang?”

“We are never watching that movie again,” she groaned.

“You have to tell me why.”

“I do not! I’m your _mother._ Why do you even want to know this?”

“Because it’s funny? I don’t know. Just tell me.”

“It was when he saved David’s life. He’d been flirting with me pretty relentlessly since we’d left to rescue you—trying to _bond_ and everything—and when I thanked him for helping David, he was all, you know, ‘Oh, well, if you _really_ cared about your dad, you’d _really_ thank me,’ or something. I don’t remember his exact words.”

“And then he kissed you?”

“Well, no, I kissed him … he practically dared me!”

“Mom, I think we have to have a talk about how you don’t have to do things just because people dare you to,” he said, perfectly imitating the affectations she used when lecturing him.

“Anyway,” she said, her face still entirely red, “it was a one time thing, and it didn’t mean anything, no matter what he thinks—well, thought.”

He couldn’t get her to clarify, and eventually, she ended the conversation by insisting on taking a long bath. 

* * *

 The next day after school, he walked to town hall again. Regina seemed happy to see him and introduced him to the folks in the city clerk’s office. She promised to find him when she was finished meeting with Ms. Spiros. He tried to focus on the busywork he’d been given, but he could see out of the office and into the hallway, where people meeting with Regina would walk by.

He nearly fell out of his swivel chair when he spotted Ms. Spiros. He wished that his mom had insisted on letting him stay during her meeting with this unknown woman (well, unknown to him—he had to admit that even during the first curse, he hadn’t known everyone in Storybrooke). Maybe she would have if she remembered he was her son … but he didn’t want to think about that.

To his surprise, Ms. Spiros left after only a few minutes. Had the meeting been that short? He guessed that maybe it had been postponed again. This woman seemed picky enough that maybe she’d found another reason that the meeting couldn’t take place.

But Regina didn’t come to get him.

When Mr. Green arrived nearly a half hour later, and Regina still hadn’t come to find him, Henry hopped out of his seat and trotted out to the hallway. “Afternoon, Henry,” Mr. Green said jovially. He was carrying a bouquet of roses; it was a weird thing to bring to a business meeting. “Are you here to escort me to see our beloved mayor?”

“As long as you’re okay with me sitting in on the meeting,” he said. “I mean, I’d love to be able to write about the whole library process, if that’s okay with you—not just the initial meeting.”

“Of course!” Mr. Green seemed sincere. “Lead the way, if you please.”

When they entered the office, Regina seemed a little out of it. “Oh, sorry, Henry,” she said. She sounded mildly nervous and distracted. “I forgot to come get you after that last meeting.”

“It’s okay,” he said, taking his seat in the corner.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Green.”

Mr. Green hesitated before taking a seat across the desk from Regina. “Are you feeling well, Mayor Mills?”

“I’m fine.”

“I can always return tomorrow if you’d like.”

“No, it’s fine.”

Something was very, very wrong. He could tell based on her facial expression and the tone of her voice. But he couldn’t tell _what_ was wrong.

“Well, I’ve considered your offer for the library, and I’ve come up with what I hope is a reasonable counter offer,” Mr. Green said. “I will accept your offer of thirty-thousand dollars for the library, but I would also like the naming rights, and,” he said, pausing and grinning a little bit wickedly, “I insist on taking you to dinner.” He held up the bouquet.

Oh my god, Henry realized. This was a _romance_ thing; they’d been _flirting_ yesterday. It was a good thing Regina didn’t realize that her own son was witnessing this scene.

“I’ve actually decided not to pursue the library as a public project,” Regina said impassively. “I meant to call you to tell you. I’m sorry.”

“You can’t be serious!” Mr. Green said in disbelief. “Regina, I know how much this project means to you. You’ve been dropping hints about it for … well, practically forever!”

“I know, and I’m sorry to have led you on,” she said.

“I just … I don’t understand.” He leaned forward, glancing nervously towards Henry before returning his gaze to Regina. “We’ve been at this for so long, Regina. I thought this was what you wanted. Has something happened that you can’t tell me about?”

“Nothing’s happened, Mr. Green,” she said defensively. “I just don’t feel as strongly as I did before about pursuing this particular project. This meeting is over, if you’d kindly leave my office.”

He stood, dumbfounded. “Not even dinner?” he asked nervously.

“No thank you,” she said politely, before turning her attention to some paperwork. Perplexed, Mr. Green shook his head, gave Henry a sad, questioning stare, and then stormed out of the office, still clutching the bouquet.

“Why did you change your mind?” Henry asked. It wasn’t like his mom to suddenly lose interest in something she’d always been so passionate about. “M—Mayor Mills?”

“Oh, Henry,” she said, as if she’d forgotten he was there. “Sorry. Anyway, I just don’t think it’s that important anymore, you know, for the town. Don’t worry about it. Your project will still be interesting, I’m sure.” She smiled, but her smile looked empty and she seemed apprehensive. “You should probably head home. Do you need a ride?”

He shook his head. “No. I’m okay. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She hesitated. “Maybe it’s not the best idea,” she said. “During my meeting with Ms. Spiros, I thought about it, and I think it would be easier for the townsfolk if they could meet with me privately. I suppose you could spend more time downstairs if you’d like.”

“Uh, no, that’s okay,” he said. He was much too old to start crying in this sort of situation, but he could feel the panicky pressure of tears building up. “I think I have enough info for my project anyways. Thanks for letting me shadow you.”

He called Emma as soon as he closed the door to Regina’s office. “Henry, is everything okay? Do you need me to come get you?”

“Yeah, Mom. I’m at town hall. Something happened.”

“What? Is it an emergency?”

“No, I’m just feeling a little freaked.”

Emma was there in under five minutes. “What happened?” she asked as he climbed into the car.

He explained about Regina’s meetings the day before, and how she’d seemed entirely off today. “I mean, she just completely wrote off a deal she’d apparently been trying to make for a long time. Mr. Green seemed really upset—actually, he asked her out on a date and she turned him down like he’d asked her if she wanted gum or something. She seemed distracted and nervous the whole time, and then she said I shouldn’t shadow her anymore.”

“That’s really unlike your mom,” Emma said. “Maybe I should talk to Green about it.”

“Maybe _we_ should talk to him about it,” Henry said. “I’d like to. I’m worried.”

They arrived just as Mr. Green was flipping the sign in the door from “Closed” back to “Open.” He was surprised to see them. “Is something the matter?” he asked.

“What makes you think that something’s wrong?” Emma asked, suspicious.

“Well, word has it that you’re the newest deputy, and you did arrive in a squad car,” he said. “And I know that your son just witnessed the meeting I just had. Did our mayor suffer a stroke?”

“She was acting weird, right?” Henry said.

“Absolutely,” Mr. Green said. “Why don’t you come in?” He flipped the sign back over and gestured for them to follow him to the back of the shop, where Alex was busy coloring in a Disney activity book. He gestured for them to have a seat.

“So can you tell me what happened tonight?” Emma asked.

Mr. Green looked like he was about to answer, but his eyes flicked to Henry. “I’m sorry, Henry, but this is sort of … well, would you mind if I spoke to your mother in private?”

Henry was going to point out that Mr. Green had been okay with him being around when he was talking to Regina. However, had Mr. Green known that he was going to get rejected, he might not have wanted an audience. “Sure,” he said.

Mr. Green and Emma moved to back to the front of the shop, leaving Henry with Alex, who was in the process of coloring in a picture of the Genie from _Aladdin._ “So, do you like _Aladdin?”_ Henry asked him.

“Yes,” Alex said without looking up.

“What other movies do you like?”

“I like _Winnie the Pooh.”_

“Oh yeah? I loved _Winnie the Pooh_ when I was younger. Who’s your favorite character?”

“I like Tigger.”

It was clear that Alex wasn’t really in the mood to answer questions, so Henry busied himself playing solitaire on his phone until Emma peeked her head into the back room. “Henry? Ready to go home?”

Once they were safely in the car, Emma got right to the point, without waiting for Henry to even ask what had happened. “So, basically, Green’s been crushing pretty hard on Regina, and he thought she felt the same way. Not only that, but apparently, they’ve been dancing around this whole library thing for a while—at least, for as long as the town’s been restored, I’ll bet—and she’s been really eager to purchase it.”

“It sounds like she suddenly lost interest in a bunch of stuff she cared about,” Henry said. “Like, she seemed really excited that I wanted to shadow her, and until her meeting with Ms. Spiros today, she was enthusiastic about all the stuff I could learn about.”

“I’m really sorry, kid,” Emma said as they pulled up to their apartment. “I know you were really excited to spend time with her. But I’m glad you were there today. Something’s definitely wrong, and while I’m not sure just what, at least we know.”

“Yeah,” he said sadly. But something was bothering him. “You know, it’s weird.”

“What is?”

“She was fine until that meeting with Ms. Spiros.”

“Ms. Spiros is the one who wouldn’t meet with Regina while you were in the room?”

“Right. And she was gone really quickly, after only a few minutes.”

“Maybe she upset Regina?”

“Enough to make her lose interest in so many things she cared about?” Henry shrugged. “She just seemed really excited about me shadowing her, and then suddenly, she didn’t. She seemed excited about the library, and then she didn’t. And she did seem interested in Mr. Green, and then she didn’t.”

“Yeah, that sounds like she did more than just upset her. I’m really am sorry,” she said again.

“It’ll be okay,” he replied fiercely. “Because I’m going to figure out what Ms. Spiros did.”


	8. The Reunion

That evening, they ordered pizza and put together what they knew.

“Flying monkeys.”

“The Wicked Witch. I guess Walsh was meant to keep us in New York. Prevent us from coming here and mucking up her plans.”

“Right. Probably.”

“Maybe it’s Ms. Spiros.”

“That’s a possibility, since she did _something_ to my mom. She clearly didn’t want me in the room during their meeting.”

“What did you notice about her? Ms. Spiros, I mean.”

“I hadn’t seen her in Storybrooke before. But like we’ve talked about, just because I don’t recognize her doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

“Okay, but the timing of her visit, plus her behavior—I think she’s worth checking out.”

“I think so, too. And then people are disappearing at the town line.”

“Which doesn’t make sense, right? I went out to patrol around some of the places people went missing. It’s not like last time, where there’s any evidence that something bad happened. People aren’t crashing or having their engines fail or anything.”

“Right. Anything else suspicious?”

“No—well, wait. Yes. Hook said he attacked the flying monkey with his baton, but when he was done fighting it, his baton disappeared in a puff of … green smoke. Well, that does sort of go along with the Wicked Witch—she’s green, right? That’s her color?”

“His baton? Like, the thing cops hit people with?”

“Yeah. Isn’t that weird? If she needed a baton, couldn’t she just buy one off Amazon?”

After Henry went to bed, Emma stepped into the hallway to make a phone call.

“Swan? To what do I owe the pleasure?” Hook asked.

“I wanted to see how you were doing,” she said.

“To be honest, I’m feeling pretty much the same. David wants me to take the week off.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “I don’t like the idea that there are bloody flying monkeys all over Storybrooke, and my best mate is forcing me to stay home because he thinks I’ve gone mad.” He paused, as if he wasn’t sure that he should say anything else.

“Dylan?”

“Sorry. I was just wondering how much worse I’d feel if you didn’t believe me.”

“You believe _me._ Right?”

“I do.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow during lunch, if that’s okay with you. Change your bandage for you and bring you lunch, that sort of thing.”

He chuckled. “I won’t protest. I’d love the company. I’ll see you tomorrow, Swan.”

 

* * *

 

She brought grilled cheese with her this time. “Looks like you’re healing up well enough,” she said as she uncovered his shoulder. “No sign of infection.”

“I’ve always been a fast healer,” he said cheerfully. He waggled his prosthetic at her. “Which is definitely a good thing. Is Davey okay with your long lunch break?”

“Yeah. Besides, how’s he going to know I’m not patrolling?”

“I might call him and tattle.”

She grinned and re-bandaged his arm. “Don’t tell me I’ve misplaced my trust.”

He laughed. “You haven’t.” He grabbed her arm gently as she moved towards her half-eaten sandwich.

He was suddenly serious. “It’s not a coincidence that you came here when the disappearances started, is it?”

“You think I’m involved in what’s going on?”

“I’ve just had a lot of time to think. You arrived here a week and a half ago, on Sunday. When did your boyfriend turn into a vicious simian?”

She gulped. She considered lying to him, but with how well he always read her, it seemed like an exercise in futility. “Saturday.”

He nodded. “That’s when the first person went missing. Before that, everything was normal.”

“I didn’t do this,” she whispered.

“No,” he said, just as quietly. “No, but you’ve come to stop it. Haven’t you? You’ve come to save us from whatever this is—the Wicked Witch, perhaps.”

She pulled away, but didn’t answer. It was unnerving. He was always unnerving. He could read her so well, she might as well have her thoughts written on her bare skin. He had been so adaptable in Storybrooke; even as a fairytale pirate, he’d been impossibly difficult to apprehend. And here he was, doing the same thing. He had her figured out in minutes, like a mind reader. He was accepting magic as easily as he had accepted technology in his previous life. Without understanding—without remembering anything—Hook knew she was the Savior.

“That your boyfriend was a flying monkey—you weren’t surprised.” It wasn’t a question.

“I didn’t know he wasn’t human,” she answered defensively.

“No, I mean, you didn’t find it _utterly impossible,”_ he emphasized each word, “that he was a bloody supernatural creature from a children’s story.”

She stared at him.

“You didn’t seem even a little bit shocked when I told you about how my baton went missing.” He stood and began pacing. “You were _interested,_ of course, in what had happened to it, but you weren’t even the least bit fazed by the way it disappeared.” He stopped. “I think perhaps I _am_ going mad.”

“I should go,” she said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come over.”

He didn’t even turn to look at her. “That would probably be best.”

She finished her patrol holding back tears, but not quite knowing why. Maybe it was the pressure of knowing that Hook was right—as the Savior, she _was_ here to stop the Wicked Witch and break the curse. But there was something about the way he’d refused to look at her as he told her that she should leave that left her feeling acutely lonely. 

* * *

 The following day, she was stuck in the station; David had taken the day off to meet with the midwife he and Mary Margaret had hired to deliver their baby—her sibling (geez!). She took a moment to look up anyone with the last name Spiros in the system, and was disappointed to find that whoever the woman was, she didn’t have a record in Storybrooke. For fun, she looked herself up; it seemed as if—consistent with everyone’s memories—she had never been to Storybrooke. There was no record of her arrest for stealing Archie’s files, or her brief stint in one of the cells after she’d crashed her car her first night in town.

She thought about stopping by Hook’s place again to check on him. If he believed he was going mad, then it seemed like a rotten idea to leave him home alone. Then again, she was feeling cowardly about facing him again, given how things had ended the night before. She fired off a quick text to David suggesting that he drop in on his deputy after his meeting. A few hours later, David replied that he’d stopped by, but that Hook—well, Dylan—hadn’t been home. Rolling her eyes, she tapped on her phone.

_Are you okay? David said you weren’t home._

_I’m just wallowing at the Rabbit Hole. Crazy people deserve fresh air, too. Or stanky bar air, whichever._

_Please be careful. I’m worried about you._

_Worried I might turn out to be a flying monkey?_

_Can you not be like this?_

He didn’t reply.

She spent the rest of her shift trying to piece together the information she had, and texting back and forth with Henry once he was done with school. It seemed as if Operation Cobra was slowly going nowhere.

David was back at work the next day, and Emma was back on patrol. She slowly drove by Hook’s apartment again, wondering if she should go talk to him again, and then thinking better of it. What would she say, anyway? “Yes, I know all about flying monkeys because I’m the Savior and I’m here to break the curse with my son, the Truest Believer. We call it Operation Cobra. Oh, and by the way, you’re Captain Hook, and you’re actually pretty infatuated with me. Remember?”

Not likely.

David’s voice crackled over her walkie. “Emma? There’s a report of a sick or injured person in the woods near the western town line. I need you to check it out right away.”

Well, that was something at least. Maybe someone else had been attacked by a flying monkey, or one of the missing people had reappeared. “All right, I’m heading there now. Call the hospital and make sure there’s an ambulance ready, just in case.”

When she arrived at the scene, a postal service truck was parked towards the side of the road, and the postal worker was crouched down to the ground over a body. She brought the squad car to a screeching halt as close as she could get, and practically tumbled out of the car.

“I just found him like this, officer!” the postal worker said. “I think he’s still alive, but he needs an ambulance.”

“Thanks, I’ll take it from here,” Emma said. She grabbed her walkie. “David, I’m gonna need that ambulance up here right away. Appears to be a white male, not sure of any particular injuries, but he doesn’t seem to be entirely conscious.”

“All right,” David said. “Calling in the ambulance, keep me posted.”

“Sir, can you hear me?” she asked the prone figure. “Sir? Are you conscious?”

The figure stirred and turned over. “Emma? Is that you?”

It was Neal. And he recognized her.

She sent him off the ambulance while she updated David about the situation (well, most of the situation—she left out her relationship to Neal) and called Henry’s school. “Yes, it’s an emergency. Henry’s father is in the hospital. Yes, I know that his father isn’t listed on the school records. No, it’s not a mistake. Listen, I’m the _goddamn deputy_ here.”

“What happened?” Henry asked as he practically dove head first into the car. “Dad’s here?”

“Yeah,” she said, out of breath. “I have no idea what’s going on. Someone found him near the town line. And kid, he _recognized_ me.”

“He did? Are you sure?”

“Well, he said, ‘Emma,’ when he saw my face, and when I was loading him into the ambulance, he asked where you were. So yeah.” She let out a heavy breath. “I have no idea what this means.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I think he’s just out of it, like dehydrated or something. The EMTs couldn’t find any obvious injuries.”

They spent the rest of the ride in silence, except for the ringing sirens of the squad car. Emma wasn’t about to waste any precious time getting to Neal by getting stuck in typical small-town Maine traffic.

Neal was awake and alert when they arrived at the hospital. “Emma. _Henry.”_ Tears welled up in his eyes, and Emma could feel her own eyes water. Before she could react, Henry bolted to Neal and embraced him (awkwardly—Neal was hooked up to intravenous fluids, and the nurses had covered him with warm blankets).

“I never thought I’d see you again,” he said softly. Emma approached him and took the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Henry. “How did you know to come back here?”

“We woke up one day and remembered,” Henry told him. “It was barely two weeks ago.”

“Do you remember?” Emma asked. “I mean, anything?”

“Zelena,” Neal said.

“I don’t understand, is that the curse?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Listen, I don’t know how much time I have. You need to stop the Wicked Witch.”

“I know,” she said. “We’ve encountered some flying monkeys. Wait, you don’t know how much time you have?”

“She’s working on a spell, collecting the items necessary.” He ignored her question. “She’s after courage, a heart, a brain, and innocence. You have to stop her before she gets all four.”

“But why would she curse the town?” Henry asked.

“She didn’t,” he said. “But she messed it up on purpose so no one would know what she was doing.”

“Who is she?”

“Zelena,” he said insistently.

“We don’t know anyone by that name,” Henry admitted.

“And this is Storybrooke, so she’s probably not even green,” he muttered.

“How do you remember us?” Emma asked. “How do you remember this? Everyone else here is cursed.”

He sighed. “It’s complicated, and it’s not important. But I need to tell you—my dad, he’s back.”

“How is that possible? We saw him die.”

“I wanted to find you two so badly. I had to. I wasn’t going to be separated from you forever the way my dad was separated from me. I thought that by resurrecting my dad, I could find a way home to you. And I found a way.”

“Are you serious?” Emma asked.

“I am, and it worked,” he said. “But Zelena, she’d intentionally tricked me into doing it. When I resurrected my dad, she took his dagger.”

“Is your dad here?”

“Yes, although I’m not sure where. She keeps him pretty tightly under wraps. It’s his mind she wants for her spell. You have to be careful—she controls him now. He’s dangerous.”

“Neal,” Emma said, exhaling forcefully. She felt as if her legs had been kicked out from beneath her. Henry was ferociously wiping away tears. “Neal, what do we do?”

“You’re the only one who can defeat her,” he said. “Your light magic—that’s the only thing. You can do it.”

“I’ll—I’ll try,” she said. She blinked back tears. “But what’s wrong with you? Are you hurt?”

“I just think I need some rest,” he said. He sounded unbelievably weary. “Come back tomorrow?”

“Definitely,” Henry said, sniffling.

They spent most of the rest of the evening trying to calm down. Henry wouldn’t stop pacing the apartment, and Emma found herself ferociously cleaning the bathroom to distract herself. She was standing in the middle of the tub, barefoot with her jeans rolled up, scrubbing the sides, when Henry came running into the bathroom.

“Mom, Zelena—the witch—she wants a heart,” he said breathlessly.

“That’s what your dad said,” she replied. “Courage, a heart, a brain, and innocence. I guess that makes sense, although it’s a weird interpretation of the story. Why?”

“I think she took my mom’s.”

“You think—really?”

“Think about it, Mom.” He stepped into the bathroom and began pacing in the tiny space. “When your heart is gone, you don’t feel things as strongly. So she didn’t feel as passionately about the library project, she didn’t feel as excited about me shadowing her, and she didn’t feel as much affection towards Mr. Green. It fits!”

“It does,” she replied thoughtfully. “I think you figured it out, kid!” He smiled at her.

They were interrupted by her cell phone. It was the hospital.

Neal had died.


	9. The Funeral

Funeral arrangements were made quickly, much to Henry’s relief. While Neal still had his memories somehow, he had definitely been cursed; he carried identification with an address in Storybrooke, the hospital had him in its records, and he had a life insurance policy that took care of the funeral expenses.

However, none of the rest of their cursed loved ones seemed to know who he was, and they were all very curious about the situation. They wanted to know if Emma had brought Henry to Storybrooke because Neal was there; they wanted to understand why they didn’t know this person who’d apparently lived in the town his whole life; they wanted to know how he and Emma had met; and they wanted to know how an otherwise healthy man in his early thirties had died of cardiac arrest.

Henry found it hard enough to deal with his father’s death _without_ having to repeatedly dodge those questions or lie. By the the time the funeral rolled around, he’d stopped leaving his room except to go to the bathroom and shower; it seemed like Mary Margaret and Mr. Green were always over to talk to Emma, and they always wanted to talk to him.

This wasn’t the first funeral Henry had been to (or the second), but it was definitely the worst. When Graham had died, the whole town had shown up for his funeral, and both of his moms were devastated by his death. When Archie had been believed dead, the town mourning had been equally intense. But now his dad was dead, and no one knew how courageous he’d been. How he’d gone through so much to get to Neverland to save his family, how he’d fought against Pan, or how he’d found his way back to Henry and Emma to tell them who the Wicked Witch was.

It felt like there was a hole in his heart that would never be filled.

Some official he’d never met before presided over the burial on Wednesday. Henry wasn’t surprised to see Hook, David, and Mary Margaret present, but he wasn’t expecting Mr. Green and Alex to show up. He’d desperately hoped that Regina would come, but she didn’t.

Of course she didn’t. She didn’t have her heart, and she didn’t know he was her son.

He hugged Emma tighter.

When it was his turn to scoop dirt into the grave, he felt hollow.

Afterwards, they hosted a very subdued, informal luncheon. Emma had insisted that they feed everyone to thank them for coming, and Henry could tell that she was just relieved that it was such a small group of people. Mary Margaret seemed to take over the role of hostess anyway, and Emma mostly sat on the couch and nodded when anyone said anything to her.

Henry noticed that Hook kept staring at her. It seemed like such a stupid, pointless thing to think about—who cared what Hook was feeling about his mom when his dad _just_ died? And Hook wasn’t even aware of the relationship he’d had with Neal. He was going to feel awful when the curse broke and he realized that he’d spent the entire funeral of his old friend just mooning over Emma.

But at the same time, it was an excellent distraction from grief.

Hook and Emma had kissed in Neverland. Knowing about that changed the way Henry thought about the way his mom talked about Hook, and the way she acted around him.

“I’d ask if you were okay, but your father’s funeral was today, so it seems like a foolish question,” Mr. Green said, interrupting his train of thought. Henry simply shrugged, and Mr. Green sat next to him at the table. “Perhaps you would find it comforting to tell people stories about him.”

“You want me to tell you stories about my dad?” Henry replied skeptically.

Mr. Green shrugged. “I didn’t know him very well,” he said. “Perhaps through you I can know him better.”

“Maybe some other time,” Henry said. Even if Mr. Green was right, and telling stories would help, how was he going to tell stories about Neverland? “Right now, I think I’d rather be alone.”

“Of course,” Mr. Green replied. He stood and crossed the room towards what was left of the food. Henry’s eyes followed Mr. Green before becoming distracted by the sight of Hook sitting next to Emma on the couch, his arm draped over her shoulders. Henry might have written it off as just an act of comfort, but the pirate—or deputy, whatever—was slowly twisting a lock of Emma’s hair between his thumb and forefinger.

He went into his room, shut the door, and locked it. It wasn’t fair. His dad was gone. One mom didn’t even know he existed, and the other was distracted by _romance._

It wasn’t fair.

He pulled out his phone and dialed.

“Mayor Mills.” He breathed a sigh of relief—she’d answered instead of her secretary.

“It’s Henry,” he said. “Henry Swan.” _Henry Mills_ , but he couldn’t really say that.

“Henry, how are you?” she asked. “How’s your project?”

“I lied about the project,” he said. “I made it up. I wanted to spend time with you.”

She was silent for a moment. “I don’t understand. Why would you lie in order to spend time with me?”

“It doesn’t make any sense. I can’t explain.” He felt tears rising again and did his best to choke them down. “Anyway, my dad just died and I didn’t even get to tell him I loved him before he did, and I just … I’m sorry, I don’t know why I called. Bye.”

When Emma knocked on the door five minutes later, his pillowcase was covered in tears and—embarrassingly enough—not a small amount of booger. “Henry? Can I come in?”

He stood, feeling woozy, and unlocked the door. Emma sidled in, keeping the door mostly closed, and shut it behind her. He felt his lips twitch into a momentary smile—Emma knew him well enough to know that he’d been crying and wouldn’t want anyone to see him.

His smile immediately turned into a grimace as he felt the tears rise again—Emma only knew him so well because of Regina.

Emma hugged him tightly. “Regina called,” she said softly. “She said you’d called her and she was worried about you. She wants to know if she can come over.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That I’d ask you first. I’ll call her back whenever you’re ready.”

“I think I need to be alone today,” he admitted. “Maybe another time.”

“Okay,” she replied. “I’ll let her know. In the meantime, do you want to stay in your room?” He nodded weakly. “That’s totally fine. I won’t let anyone bother you.”

“Do I have to say goodbye to everyone?”

“Nope. You don’t. They’ll understand.” She closed the door behind her when she left, and he wished and wished and wished that he had three parents again.

* * *

 Mary Margaret came downstairs the following day with several casseroles for the two of them, insisting that she was in the middle of making a million frozen meals anyway for after she gave birth, and that part of being in a community was supporting other people during hard times. Mr. Green and Alex came by after that with some legal paperwork for Emma—Henry thought maybe he wanted to talk about Regina again, but he left immediately after Emma signed the documents. She seemed distracted by text messages; he suspected she was talking to Hook, and he didn’t know how he felt about it.

On the one hand, he understood that his parents hadn’t been together for a reason. He had been so upset with Emma for lying about his dad being a dead firefighter, but had he known the truth about his dad from the start, he might not have gotten along with him so well after they were reunited. In fact, until he’d gotten his memories of Storybrooke back, he believed he’d always known about his dad leaving Emma in prison, and he’d fantasized about yelling at Neal or giving him the cold shoulder if they ever met.

But _Hook?_ Hook had helped bring Cora to Storybrooke, and Cora had undone all the progress Regina had made. Hook had shot Belle and destroyed her memory, and he’d almost murdered Mr. Gold. Hook had helped Greg and Tamara hurt Regina, and he’d sailed away with the magic bean even though he knew they needed it to save everyone. Hook was a _villain._ It would be okay if she liked Deputy Dylan—Dylan was a good guy who was fun to be around. But Hook?

Maybe he was reformed. Emma had talked about Hook’s heroics in Neverland and his budding friendship with David. And Henry knew firsthand that not all villains stayed villainous; Regina had worked hard to redeem herself, and maybe Hook was capable of that, too.

After breakfast Friday morning, Regina showed up at the apartment.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, trying not to sound rude or ungrateful.

“Your mother and I thought that maybe we should spend some time together,” Regina said carefully. “I thought maybe you’d like a proper tour of the town. Does that sound good?”

“I guess,” he said. He looked back at Emma, who was sitting on the couch with a magazine; she smiled gently and nodded. “Don’t you need to be at town hall?”

“I took the day off,” she said. She smiled. “Sometimes, mayors have to prioritize. The town will be able to run itself for one day.”

She wanted to spend time with him, and even took time off work to do it. He smiled back and nodded.

She drove to the edge of the town center, and from there, they walked around in a haphazard loop. He didn’t need to listen too carefully—he knew all the information she was detailing anyway. He took the opportunity to pretend that he was just a normal kid, and that she was just the mayor of a normal town, and this was just a normal tour.

They stopped by Granny’s for lunch, just like they’d stopped by for dinner when he’d been faking his project. This time, she asked him about his hobbies, what he wanted to be when he grew up, and what he thought of the town’s history. He answered everything as truthfully as possible, and he tried to keep from staring at her too long, trying to decide if maybe he saw that glimmer of fire that made her _her._

“Why did you decide to hang out with me today?” he asked as the check arrived.

She smiled sadly. “I know what it’s like to be lonely after the death of a parent. And after your phone call to me, I knew that you needed someone who understood what you were going through.”

“Are you upset at me?” he asked. “I mean, for lying about the project.”

She shook her head. “Actually, I found it very … sweet, Henry.” Her smile widened a little. “This may not surprise you, but I’ve never had a child want to spend time with me before, and I really enjoyed your company. I’d be happy if you wanted to come back to town hall after school. You don’t have to pretend to have a project.” She chuckled. “Unless you’d like to.”

“I’d really like that,” he said.

They spent the rest of the day hanging out at the park. They even stopped by the grocery store for some bread to feed to the ducks; it was a cliché activity, but it was relaxing and distracting. She told him about her father, and how he’d always supported her, even when she didn’t get along with her mother, and how she had felt responsible for his death.

And she encouraged him to tell her about Neal; he told her about meeting him in New York, and about how important it was for him to know where he came from. Partially because she had been so up front with him about her father’s death, and partially because _she was his mom_ and he felt like confiding in her, he told her about why his parents had split, and how he’d been born in prison. To his surprise and relief, her response to that had been supportive; he’d been worried she’d be judgmental of Emma, but instead, she was sympathetic.

The most difficult part of the conversation, though, was not just coming out with the truth. Regina kept making offhand comments—wasn’t it a funny coincidence that he and her father shared a name? Didn’t it feel like she’d known him for much longer than she had? Wasn’t it nice that they had seen so many of the same movies, and shared similar tastes in food? _Because I’m your son,_ he wanted to tell her.

As Regina was dropping him off late in the afternoon, he remembered a question he needed to ask her. “Wait—can you tell me what happened with Ms. Spiros?”

She frowned. “Henry, she wanted to meet with me privately for a reason.”

It had been a long shot anyway. “Okay, I guess that makes sense. Ms. Spiros—what’s her first name?”

“Zelena.” His insides felt cold and numb.

“Okay, Zelena Spiros,” he said as casually as he could; his heart was pounding. “She does deserve her privacy. Anyway, thanks again for today! I’ll see you after school on Monday!”

He opened the door to the apartment and saw Emma sitting on the couch. “Hey, Mom? Mom, what’s wrong?” She looked as if she had just received the news of Neal’s death all over again. “Mom, Regina told me that Ms. Spiros is definitely Zelena.”

“Kid, I messed up,” she said hoarsely.

“How?” he asked.

“You know what your dad said? About how my magic was the only thing that could defeat the Wicked Witch?”

“Uh, yeah. Why?”

“It’s gone. Henry, my magic is gone.”


	10. The Kiss

She hadn’t been oblivious to Hook playing with her hair after the funeral. She knew everyone could see it, too, and she just … she just didn’t have it in her to care that everyone could see.

The last time she’d gone through Neal’s death—even though he hadn’t actually been dead—she’d relied on Hook for some comfort. It wasn’t as obvious, nor was it as explicitly romantic in any way, but it had been comfort all the same. He had been supportive, he’d tried to find the right things to say to her, and he’d distracted her from the pain of losing Neal, and the doubts she had about saving Henry. She’d let him into her life then, and she was doing the same now; it was what she needed. So what if that comfort was a little more romantic than it had been the last time?

And it wasn’t as if she had been cheating on Neal. Henry knew their backstory, thanks to Regina’s fake memories. She’d have to make sure he understood how she could still be heartbroken at Neal’s passing, but she doubted Henry would feel like his mother was betraying his father’s memory by finding comfort in the arms of someone else.

And it wasn’t as if she was going to _sleep_ with Hook. Or even necessarily kiss him again. She was just taking comfort in the physical proximity of another person, and she appreciated that he seemed to understand that and didn’t leave her to initiate. After their last conversation—both in person and over text—she was surprised that he was being so affectionate.

Her overanalyzing of the situation (which, she had to admit, detracted from the comfort it brought her) was interrupted by Henry storming off into his room and shutting the door.

“I need to go talk to him,” she told Hook.

“I think that’s the lad’s way of saying he doesn’t want to talk.”

“He’s my son,” she reminded him. “I know what he needs better than you do.”

“Or perhaps you just want an excuse to get some distance from me?” he asked. “Water under the bridge, love. That’s what you said.”

“When did I say that?” she asked, but her phone rang before he could answer. “Excuse me. Hello?”

“Ms. Swan? This is Mayor Mills. Regina,” she added, just in case Emma hadn’t remembered.

“Regina, hi. I’m sorry, but this isn’t the best time.”

“Actually, that’s why I’m calling,” Regina said. She sounded very concerned. “Henry just called me. I understand that he just lost his father.”

“Yeah,” Emma confirmed. “The funeral was earlier today. He’s having a rough time.”

“I can imagine. He said some things to me … well, I was wondering if maybe I should come over. If he wants.” This was a far cry from the Regina that Henry and Green had been worried about. This sounded more like the Regina whom Emma had grown to know since Neverland. Perhaps she hadn’t lost her heart after all? But that _was_ the best explanation for her earlier change in behavior.

“Of course,” Emma said. “I’ll ask him and give you a call back.”

“Thank you,” Regina replied. “And I’m sorry, Ms. S—Emma, for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

After conferring with Henry and calling Regina back, Emma was emotionally spent. Everything just felt like _too much:_ Neal was dead _(really_ dead); she and Henry were no closer to unraveling the mystery of why the town was cursed or what the Wicked Witch wanted; and no one in town was more than just an acquaintance. She remembered when Graham had died, and she’d had Mary Margaret’s support, or when Cora had faked Archie’s death, and they all mourned together. It felt personal—like no one in town really cared that Neal had died, and they didn’t care all that much about Emma or Henry either.

Now, she felt entirely alone in her grief. Everyone who was here was here out of politeness. They weren’t grieving with her or Henry—they just felt _guilty_ that she and Henry were alone. That these people were their closest friends and family (well, except Green—she had no idea who _he_ was) and just didn’t remember made their presence painful.

She pressed the swan pendant between her fingers. The keychain necklace she’d angrily returned to Neal when she’d found him in Manhattan had been among his possessions given to her by the hospital. She’d momentarily debated over what to do with it—throw it out? Shove it in her jewelry box and forget about it?—before she clasped it around her neck once more. It felt like the only way she could forgive him and close the book on their relationship.

She felt tears rising in her throat at the thought.

“I’m sorry, I think it might be a good time for people to go,” she whispered to Mary Margaret.

“Of course,” her mother—well, neighbor—replied seriously. “I’ll round everyone up.” She hugged Emma, which was no small feat given how advanced her pregnancy was. When she pulled away, Emma could read the sincerity in her face. “I’m so sorry, and I’m also sorry that we’re still really just strangers. You know you and Henry can come upstairs whenever you’d like, even after the baby comes, even if it’s just so you don’t have to be alone.”

Green patted her shoulder as he came over to say goodbye, and Alex hugged her around her knees (his “Bye, Emma,” was muffled by her black slacks). “I’d be happy to handle anything legal for you, if that’s something you’d like. Meanwhile, my door is always open for you and your son if you need anything.”

David was having a somewhat heated conversation with Mary Margaret over by the door, and Hook took that opportunity to approach her. “Perhaps I should stay,” he said nervously. “I don’t like the thought of you or your boy alone right now.”

“I think we need to be alone,” she said firmly. “What just happened … I can’t even imagine worse circumstances. Not that there’s a right time for any of this.”

“If there’s anything I’ve learned from you, love, it’s that sometimes, when we most want to be alone, that’s when we most need someone’s support.”

“Listen, I mean it, that I want to be alone. Henry obviously does, too. I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

He looked confused, and then irritated, as if he was going to insist on continuing the conversation, but David interrupted with a hand on his shoulder. Hook shook his head and stormed out.

“What is _with_ him?” Emma asked. “I just want to be alone for a bit.”

“He’s upset about Thursday,” he said. “And I am, too. Emma, you _know_ he’s been trying to stay sober.”

“He was drinking?”

“You _bought_ him a drink!”

“Why would I buy a recovering alcoholic a drink? Do you think I’m stupid?”

“Are you calling Dylan a liar?”

“I mean, if he says I bought him a drink, then yes! I was at the station all day last Thursday!”

“Which you can’t prove,” he pointed out. He clenched his jaw and shook his head. “Listen, Emma, I can’t have this kind of drama between my deputies. I think you should take the next week off while I think the situation over.”

“You’re firing me?” she asked incredulously. “At my son’s father’s funeral?”

“David,” Mary Margaret called from the doorway. Her tone was clearly one of warning.

“I’m not,” he said, with the yet left unsaid but implied. “I just think it would be best if you took some time off for now.” He grabbed his coat from the hook by the door. “And I am really sorry about Neal,” he mumbled. Mary Margaret rolled her eyes, and they both left.

* * *

 The next day, Henry seemed withdrawn; she suggested a movie—one they’d watched plenty of times before—as a distraction (not _The Lion King,_ though—that would have been a mistake). Green stopped by with Alex to drop off some paperwork for her to fill out; he seemed to want to ask after Regina before thinking better of it and leaving. In the end, his visit ended up spoiling the movie, and they put on discs of _Friends_ instead. Around dinner time, she and Henry picked at some casserole that Mary Margaret had brought over, and Emma’s phone buzzed.

_Emma? This is Regina—Mayor Mills. I hope it’s okay that I’m texting you._

_Of course. Is something up?_ She wasn’t sure how to reply.

_I hope this isn’t too forward, but I was wondering if maybe I could keep Henry company sometime, maybe even tomorrow. lost my father under trying circumstances, so I thought maybe I could help him a little._

_I think that would be wonderful. Thank you, Regina._

* * *

 The next morning, after Regina picked up a very surprised Henry, Emma was about to set aside her magazine and take a long bath when there was another knock on the door.

It was Hook.

“Why are you here?” she asked miserably.

“We have to talk about what happened,” he said insistently, pushing past her into the apartment.

“What happened?” she asked, almost slamming the door before remembering that she had neighbors who might mind. “What happened was that I needed space to grieve for my _dead loved one,_ and you got angry at me for it. And,” she added with emphasis, “now David wants to fire me because he thinks I plied you with alcohol!”

“But you—he wants to _fire_ you?” he asked, blinking in surprise. “Swan, I didn’t ask him to do that.”

“Well, he’s got your back,” she said bitterly. “It’s nice to know that I’ve got so much support in this trying time.”

“You kicked me out,” he pointed out.

“I wanted privacy!” she retorted. “I didn’t want you out of my life! I just wanted some time alone to be sad and not have to manage anyone else.”

“I felt the same way,” he said angrily. “I wanted to be alone, and you wouldn’t let me!”

“When?” she asked. “You said it would be best if I left, and I _did.”_

“On Wednesday,” he said.

“Yes, on Wednesday,” she agreed. He looked at her expectantly. “So we agree that on Wednesday, I left you alone when you wanted me to.”

“Right, but not last Monday or Thursday.”

“Okay, you have me on Monday, but I didn’t see you Thursday.”

“Oh, so I just hallucinated our encounter, did I?”

“Maybe, if you thought you saw me Thursday. I _texted_ you to see if you were okay, but I didn’t see you at all.”

“So why is it that I have a distinct memory of you coming to the Rabbit Hole, buying me a few drinks, and kissing me with abandon in a men’s room stall?”

“I have no idea!” she snapped indignantly. “And I would _never_ make out with you in a bathroom stall!”

“I had _one_ drink before you showed up,” he said. “One drink. And then you bought me three more! I am _not_ making this up!”

“But I wasn’t there!”

“So what, Swan?” He practically threw himself down on the couch. “So someone who looked and sounded exactly like you and responded to your name showed up at the Rabbit Hole to seduce me?” His face darkened. “It would have to be magic, wouldn’t it?”

“I … I suppose,” she said, feeling a bit deflated as the realization hit her. This was Storybrooke, and there was a witch on the loose. It was the most likely explanation.

He took a deep breath and rubbed his face with his hand. “We’ve both been attacked by flying monkeys, and my baton vanished before my very eyes. If you really weren’t there, but I remember differently, then perhaps we’re both right, and there’s a supernatural explanation.”

“Those aren’t the only weird things that have happened.”

“What, and the disappearances?”

She shook her head. “Henry thinks that the Wicked Witch took Regina Mills’ heart.”

He snorted. “I think we’d notice if the mayor were dead with a massive chest wound,” he said.

“No, it doesn’t work that way,” she said. She moved to the couch and sat next to him. “Practitioners of powerful magic, they can tear your heart out without killing you. The heart becomes enchanted.” She held her hand in front of her as if she were holding one. “The victim continues living; if they were unconscious when their heart was taken, they might not even know it’s gone. The person who holds it can control them with it. They can make you do or say whatever they’d like, or they can crush it and kill you.” Tears filled her eyes as she remembered Graham convulsing before dying in her arms.

“And you think Regina’s heart is missing?”

She nodded. “Henry and I think so, but it makes sense. When you lose your heart, you stop feeling things as strongly. You can still have emotions, but they’re … they’re really dull and dim. Regina went from being passionate and fierce to passive and uninterested in the course of a five minute meeting.”

“Are you all right, love?” He tentatively touched her back, and she realized she was trembling.

She sighed shakily. “Someone I cared about—someone had taken his heart. I didn’t believe him—I didn’t know such a thing was possible—I didn’t believe in magic. The person who had his heart, she wanted him all to herself, and when he fell for me, she …” She touched the bootlace on her wrist gently. “She killed him.”

Hook’s arms wrapped around her. “I’m so sorry.”

She reciprocated the embrace. “It’s okay. I miss him. I feel responsible.”

He pulled away. “You didn’t force that person to kill your friend,” he said. “She had a choice.” He frowned, looking ashamed. “I had a choice; I didn’t have to drink the other night. I blamed you for enabling me, but it was my choice.”

“If it was the witch,” Emma said, “I wonder why she was trying to do … whatever. Seduce you,” she finished uncomfortably.

“If I may be honest with you,” he began, and she nodded when he waited for her expectantly. “I would have gone home with you—or her, I suppose. But she kissed me for a few minutes, thanked me, and left.”

“She just wanted to kiss you?”

“I wasn’t even that intoxicated, but perhaps she thought I’d need prodding.” The look on his face was identical to the one he’d worn in Neverland when he’d admitted his feelings to her in Echo Cave. She knew what he was thinking. _Until I met you_ rang in her head. It was happening again: he was falling hard and fast.

“You barely know me,” she whispered.

“Do I?” he asked thoughtfully. “I feel as if I’ve known you for a long time. There’s just … there’s just something about you. That night, I thought you’d taken advantage of me, that you were just toying with me. Then, when you let me comfort you after the funeral … I’m so embarrassed by my behavior.”

“It’s okay,” she said quietly. “This witch is messing with all of us.”

“What could she possibly want?” he asked; he sounded disappointed with the change in subject.

“Neal told me,” she admitted. “Well, sort of. He didn’t tell me what her goal was, but he told me what she needed.”

“And what is that?”

“Courage, a heart, a brain, and innocence.” She shrugged. “I have no idea what innocence would be. Neal said she’d already gotten the brain. I guess Regina’s heart is another ingredient.”

“My baton,” he whispered. “I have to admit that I fought off that monkey quite courageously.” He grinned smugly, but his eyes were still filled with confusion and concern.

“That would explain why it disappeared,” she agreed. “She took it. It’s an ingredient.”

“Did Neal happen to mention anything else? Perhaps if we can identify her, we can arrest her.”

“He said her name was Zelena,” she said. “Arresting her won’t stop her, though. She has magic.”

“Not Zelena Spiros?” he asked. He sounded very hopeful that he had the wrong Zelena.

“Um, yes,” she said. “That’s who Regina was meeting with when her heart was taken. Do you know her?”

“Aye,” he replied seriously. “She’s the midwife Davey and Mary Margaret hired.” His eyes widened. “Innocence,” he said. “The last ingredient. _Innocence._ It’s the child.”

“Oh no,” she whispered. “We need to stop her _now._ That baby is due any day now!”

“How do we stop her if we can’t arrest her?” he asked. “I need to tell David.”

“And tell him what?” she asked, frustrated. “Listen, do you know where she lives? I can defeat her.” The words sounded incredibly silly coming out of her mouth.

“I don’t,” he said. “David might. How do we defeat her?”

“I, uh …” She blushed. “I have magic.”

He was silent for a moment. “Magic.”

“Yeah.”

“Like, you can …” He held up his hand and waggled his fingers at her comically.

She rolled her eyes and looked around the room. It had been a year since Regina had trained her in any way, and she hadn’t gotten any practice since then. But there was a set of unlit candles on the countertop. She pointed to them, and Hook looked over obediently. She closed her eyes and thought about how her magic was going to protect Henry, her parents, and her unborn sibling. She felt Hook stiffen beside her, and when she opened her eyes, the candles were indeed lit.

“Well,” he said. “That is definitely something.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “So this _is_ why you decided to come here? To defeat the Wicked Witch?”

“Honestly, no,” she said. “I didn’t know she’d be here.”

“Did you come because of Neal?” he asked.

“Sort of.”

They were still on the couch, and his arm had wound itself around her shoulder. The lit candles looked silly in the bright morning light that filled the apartment. “Emma,” he said seriously. “Emma, why do I feel this way about you?”

“You shouldn’t,” she said softly. “You had a second chance to avoid making this mistake.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I mean, you should know better than to try to get involved with me,” she said, trying to cover for her reference to the past he didn’t remember. “There’s so much you don’t know about me.”

“But I like what I do know,” he said. “You’re a wonderful mother. You still care about the father of your son, even if you weren’t romantically involved. You’re a competent deputy. And you … you make me feel like I’m not an irredeemable screw-up.”

“You’re not an irredeemable screw-up,” she said gently.

“Well, I’m a one-handed cop with a drinking problem,” he admitted. “It’s not the finest type of man.” He reached up to her face as if to move a strand of hair out of the way, but instead, he caressed her cheek. “Do you see anything in me?”

She did. She saw the man of honor, who prized good form above all else. She saw the man who wanted to stop being a villain and start being a hero. She saw the man who stepped back when Neal was back in the picture, just in case she wanted to rebuild a family with him.

When she leaned in to kiss him, something went terribly wrong.

As their lips touched, she felt suddenly ill. She pulled back immediately, in time to see a green glow fade away from his lips. Initially, he looked completely confused, eyes still hooded from the romantic moment, but then his brow furrowed. “Your lips,” he said. “Why did they go green all of a sudden?”

“Yours did, too,” she whispered. “Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick.”

When she returned from the bathroom, having lost the toast she ate for breakfast, Hook was still on the couch, looking incredibly concerned. “It was green,” he said. “It was the witch.”

“I think so,” she said, grabbing a dish towel and wiping her face with it. “I hate to say it, but I think that was the worst kiss I’ve ever had.” She was relieved that he chuckled. She blew out the candles. “That was really weird,” she said, unsure of what else to say. “I have no idea what that did, besides make me ill. Are you feeling okay?” She filled a glass with water; she needed to get the taste of vomit out of her mouth.

“Physically, yes,” he replied. He stood and joined her at the counter. “Emotionally? Well, let’s just say that I don’t appreciate anyone meddling in my love life.” He grinned mischievously. “Perhaps the key to defeating the witch is actually the two of us becoming romantically involved, and she’s made it so that we can’t kiss.”

“Then why would she have impersonated me? If she wanted to keep us from getting involved, why go out of her way to create sexual tension? Would you have been as interested in me if she hadn’t cornered you at the Rabbit Hole?”

He shrugged. “I think I would have been. I might not have felt so strongly about you so quickly, but I think I was yours from the moment I first saw you in the sheriff’s station.” He moved closer to her, and she felt her pulse quicken. “Perhaps it was a one time thing, and the next kiss will be safe,” he suggested, his voice low and rough.

“You want me to risk throwing up a second time _just_ so you can kiss me again?” she asked skeptically, but he responded by taking her by the waist and doing just that.

This time, she felt only pleasure as he kissed her—and this was the first time _he_ was kissing _her,_ she realized. He pulled her close so that their hips were pressed together, and as he opened his mouth, he used his lips to open hers, deepening the kiss. She felt and heard a tiny moan escape her mouth into his, and she held onto his shirt lapels for dear life.

Had he initiated the kiss in Neverland, maybe she wouldn’t have been able to call it a one time thing. It certainly wasn’t anymore. 

* * *

 She couldn’t believe it; she suspected that she was just playing some sort of movie role, or that maybe she was in the Storybrooke version of _The Truman Show,_ and becoming romantically involved with Captain Hook was a ploy for ratings during sweeps. But it was happening. And she was surprised at just how much she enjoyed it.

Eventually, they took a break for lunch; her stomach had started growling loudly to protest the fact that she’d lost her breakfast. Hook picked up take-out from Granny’s (and stopped by the station to maintain the ruse that he was on patrol) while Emma straightened up the apartment to quell her nerves. Her thoughts pinged back and forth between wondering what the witch’s magic had done, and wondering what would happen when her fellow deputy returned.

After he came back, they began by eating at the table like adults. But eventually, they ended up partially tangled up on the couch, watching reruns of _Bones;_ they criticized the investigative techniques when they weren’t otherwise occupied with light kisses and caresses (or sometimes not-so-light kisses and caresses).

Eventually, Henry texted her to say he was on his way home, and Hook left, promising to talk to David about Zelena. It took several minutes for him to go, though—he kept leaning back in for one more goodbye kiss, and god help her, she kept giving him one last one. When she finally shut the door for good, she had a foolish grin on her face, relieved that he’d left before her son caught them. She’d eventually have to tell him that she and Hook were kind of a thing (they hadn’t really talked about exactly what kind of thing, but clearly, _some_ kind of thing), but that didn’t mean that he needed to see them in the midst of making out like teens.

It was starting to get dark already; Emma longed for the time of year when it would stay light out until eight or nine at night. The darkness was especially oppressive in Maine during the winter. She eyed the candles on the counter and smiled, thinking about how easily Hook had accepted that she could do magic. She willed the candles to light as she moved to turn on a lamp.

The candles remained unlit.

She shook her head—she must be out of practice.

She thought again about how she would use her magic to protect Henry. About how Zelena was going to hurt David and Mary Margaret’s baby— _her baby sibling!_ About how Zelena had manipulated Hook. How Neal had _died._

The candles remained unlit.

By the time she heard Henry’s footsteps outside the apartment door, she’d figured it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this story, it had not occurred to me that Emma didn't actually know that Regina crushed Graham's heart. Shortly after I'd written it, the creators confirmed that Emma was still unaware of what had really happened. Additionally, it's been pointed out to me that technically, Hook's baton would only be a powerful symbol of courage if he had been facing his greatest fear (the way David did in The Tower after being dosed with nightroot). For both of these inconsistencies, I'm pulling the artistic license/AU card.


	11. The Confrontations

“Can you forgive me?” Emma asked quietly.

“Mom, you didn’t know what would happen,” Henry tried to reassure her.

“No,” she said. “I mean … this thing, with Hook …” She trailed off.

“Oh.” He wanted to answer her honestly, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings either. “I guess. But, what would I be forgiving you for?”

She pressed her lips together in that way she always did when she knew he was trying to avoid upsetting her. “Henry, please tell me the truth.”

He shrugged. “Did I think you and Dad would get back together? No. I didn’t really. But while I like Hook while he’s Dylan …” Now it was his turn to trail off.

She nodded. “Sometimes, I forget that you didn’t see the person he was after he came back to help us. He did it to save you—he did it for your father. I don’t think he likes who he was before.”

“I just wasn’t expecting you to, you know … start dating him. I just thought it would be fun to be friends.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘dating,’ Henry,” she said sternly. “I just kissed him. That was it.” She was a little too defensive about it, but he let it go for the time being. They had more important things to discuss: Zelena, and how to stop her.

Emma had filled him in on what she and Hook had figured out. If Neal’s information about Rumplestiltskin was correct, and if they were right about Hook’s baton and Regina’s heart, then Zelena was only one ingredient away from her spell. And as Mary Margaret’s midwife, she was exactly where she needed to be to get the baby— _his mom’s sibling._

Without Emma’s magic, though, they only had one option left: break the curse, and hope that someone else could use light magic, or restore hers.

* * *

 That evening, as Henry worked on a homework assignment, there was a pounding on the door; he dropped his pencil in surprise, and Emma dropped the book she was reading. They exchanged alarmed glances before she walked to the door and looked out the peephole.

“It’s David,” she said to him, before opening the door. David practically stormed in.

“I don’t know _who the hell_ you think you are, but you have no right _—no right—_ to show up and start destroying everyone’s lives!”

Henry had never seen his grandfather this furious before. Clearly, Emma hadn’t either; she was slowly backing up and moving a little so that she was standing between grandfather and grandson. “David, please calm down,” she said.

“Why should I?” he demanded. “First, you feed Dylan a bunch of lies about flying _fucking_ monkeys. _Then_ you get him drunk. And _now_ you’ve convinced him that our midwife is trying to kill our baby!”

“If you’d let me explain—”

“Explain what? You barely even _know_ Dylan—why would you do this to him? You weren’t there to pick up the pieces after his accident. You weren’t there all those nights when he called, begging me to let him have one more drink. You weren’t there when Gold leveled those accusations at him—accusations that were based on enough truth that the only reason Dylan kept his job was that he agreed never to touch alcohol again!”

“I didn’t know—”

“Because you don’t _know_ him. You don’t know any of us, and yet you saunter in here like _you’re_ sheriff, and you’re spinning bullshit tales about the Wicked Witch of the West—”

“Hey!” Henry’d had enough. “You can’t come in here and start yelling at my mom!” He felt adrenaline surge through him as he stood up from his chair and moved in front of Emma. “If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to call the mayor and have you removed as sheriff.” He crossed his arms, hoping he looked defiant and intimidating.

He didn’t _feel_ intimidating. David was almost a foot taller than he was, and definitely much stronger. And he could see the holster under David’s jacket; as sure as he was that his grandfather wasn’t going to _shoot_ them … he wished he were more sure.

But it worked. “Stay away from my family,” David said forcefully (but he was no longer yelling), and he stormed back out. When he slammed the door, a framed drawing that Henry had made as a little kid fell to the ground.

“At least the glass didn’t shatter all over the place,” he mumbled.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I think so.” Now that his adrenaline was wearing off, he felt a little shaky. “Are you?”

“I will be once we break this curse. You were so brave, kid.” She put her hand on his shoulder, and he could feel that she was just as shaky as he felt. “It’s fitting that you’re growing up to be a hero. It’s like a family business or something.”

He grinned. “First order of business, if I’m going to be one of the heroes: I’ve gotta find my mom.”

Emma nodded. “Find her, reminder her of her love for you, convince her that magic is real, and then …” She snapped her fingers.

He hoped it would be that easy. 

* * *

 He arranged to meet with Regina the next morning at Granny’s. When he arrived at nine, she texted him saying she was running late but would be there soon, so he ordered his hot cocoa and began playing 2048 on his phone. The diner was mostly empty, even for a Sunday morning.

As he finally got the 1024 tile and raised a hand triumphantly, someone approached his booth. “Am I interrupting a particularly important moment?”

It was Ms. Spiros—Zelena—and she was arching an eyebrow and smiling.

“What do _you_ want?” he asked angrily. Why was she here? He gripped his phone in one hand and reached for the knife from his place setting with the other.

Her smile widened and she sat across from him without asking. “I thought I might introduce myself, since you and your mother seem to be _so_ interested in my activities.”

“You’re the Wicked Witch,” he said angrily. “You sent flying monkeys after us, you stole my mom’s heart, you stole my other mom’s magic, and you’re trying to steal my aunt or uncle. You’d better get out of here before I hurt you.”

“I’m so disappointed,” she said with mock sadness. “You’re only angry with me for _those_ particular grievances? You know, I also was responsible for your father’s death.” She grinned again and pointed to the butter knife he held. “Still planning to hurt me?”

It felt like the booth had fallen out from underneath him. He and Emma hadn’t understood why Neal had died—the hospital couldn’t figure it out beyond cardiac arrest—and he’d spent the past week feeling confused and angry that the doctors had no answers for them. But this—that someone with _magic_ had killed him—it all made sense. She’d killed him. She’d _killed_ him.

And instead of leaping across the table at her, he could do nothing but sit, frozen, with his vision tunneling so that all he could see was the self-satisfied smirk on Zelena’s face. Some hero he was.

“I’m here, Henry—dear, sweet Henry—because once my plans succeed, you will cease to exist, and this will be the only opportunity I will have had to meet you. You are quite a remarkable young man, too. You figured out so easily that I had taken Regina’s heart—I suppose it was a waste of my time, then, to ensure you weren’t there to witness it.”  
“You’re going to kill her,” he guessed.

She laughed, as if his suggestion were the most absurd one she’d ever heard. “Kill her? Of course not, my dear. I need her heart whole for what I’m going to do.”

“And just what are you going to do?” He gritted his teeth.

She leaned in closer to him. “I’m going to go back in time,” she said gleefully. “You see, Regina is my half-sister. She had everything she could have ever wanted in life, and she didn’t even _want_ it. So I’m going to go back and change everything so that _I_ can have it. I’m going to make life fair.”

“Life’s not fair,” Henry said. He thought of his own life at the moment. “Anyone could have told you that.”

“Some of us have the power to _make_ it fair,” she replied, her eyes hardening.

“So you came here to brag about killing my dad?” he asked angrily.

“And to warn you,” she said. “You’ll cease to exist soon anyway, but if you want to enjoy the last few days of your life, you should stay out of my way.” She stood and smirked again. “It was _lovely_ meeting you, nephew.” And she strode out of the diner.

It was as if he’d been spelled to sit still (and maybe he had been), and now that she was gone, he could move freely. He suddenly began shaking; he dropped the knife and clutched at his phone to call Emma when someone else sat in the booth with him.

Regina.

She was entirely white; he had never seen her look so scared or sick. “I, uh …” she stopped and gulped nervously. “I overheard your conversation with her.”

It wasn’t a question, and he had no idea what to say to her. But she continued. “I thought I was going crazy when she took—when _I_ thought she took …” She trailed off again and looked at Henry as if she were begging him to tell her it was all a prank.

He swallowed hard. “She took your heart,” he confirmed. “That’s why you haven’t felt as much since then.”

“Henry,” she protested weakly. “Henry, if she took my heart—I mean, if she really took it—I’d be _dead.”_

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “It’s not how it works.”

She put her head in her hands. “I thought I was going crazy,” she repeated. “That’s why I wouldn’t tell you about the meeting. Who’s going to believe that the local midwife could … I can’t even believe it.”

“It was real,” he said insistently. Belief—he needed belief. She needed to believe in magic. “Magic is real, and what she did to you was real.”

She stared up at him, looking terrified. “How do you know all this?” she asked.

“Because of my mom,” he said.

“Emma teaches you about magic?” she asked.

He felt like his whole body must be obviously shaking. _“You_ taught me about magic.”

“I don’t know anyth—” she began, but then immediately froze as she realized what he was telling her. “But Emma’s your mother,” she said quietly.

“So are you,” he said insistently.

She blinked at him a few times, still looking shocked. Then, understanding crept onto her face. “You’re named after my father,” she said. “It’s not a coincidence.” He shook his head, confirming her suspicions. “And that’s why I feel like I’ve known you for so much longer. Why don’t I remember?”

“It’s a curse,” he said. His face felt wet—was he crying? “You have to break it, Mom.”

“How?” she whispered.

“You just—” He was definitely crying now, but it was hard to care. “You just have to love me,” he choked out.

“Oh, Henry.” She was starting to cry, too. She stood and slid onto the bench so she was sitting beside him. “If you’re right, and I’m your mother, then of _course_ I love you. And you know what?” He looked up at her, and she smiled through her tears. He was vaguely aware of the handful of other people in the diner staring at them. “I believe you’re right, Henry.”

And she kissed his forehead. 

* * *

 Emma had only just returned from dropping Henry off at the diner when there was an unexpected knock on the door. She threw her purse down on the counter; she hoped it was Hook. She’d texted him the night before, letting him know about her magic and about David screaming at her, and he’d promised to stop by first thing in the morning.

But when Emma opened the door, there was a strange woman there instead. “Can I help you?” she asked nervously.

“You already have, my dear,” the woman said.

“Your voice,” Emma said, frowning. “You called in that suspicious activity and wouldn’t leave your name.”

“You’ve got an excellent memory, Savior,” the woman said with a smile. “It’s too bad that I had to make the same call a second time, but I couldn’t risk you shooting my loyal pet when I needed your pirate to use his baton.”

“Zelena,” Emma said, her voice low.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” the witch asked politely.

“No,” Emma replied. “What the hell do you want?”

“I’ve just stopped by to meet you,” Zelena said. “As soon as I’ve got everything I need, I’m going to go back in time and right some wrongs. And then you’ll cease to exist. I thought I’d say hi before then.”

“You’re not going to win. I’m going to stop you.”

“With what?” The witch laughed. “Your special brand of True Love Savior magic? I spotted the captain leaving here with quite the smile on his face yesterday, my dear. I’m reasonably sure your magic is gone.”

“You did that to him—to me!” Emma hissed.

“I did,” Zelena said proudly. “And it was so easy, too. A simple glamour spell, a few drinks, and a few kisses—that’s all it took to get the desperate admission of love I needed to curse him. I was disappointed at how long it took for him to finally kiss you, but I suppose that was my own fault. If Neal hadn’t shown up and then died, you wouldn’t have been as distracted.”

“Neal—you …” She wished she had her piece on her, but it was stowed in the gun safe in the bedroom, as was usual when she wasn’t wearing it.

“I _may_ have facilitated that,” she said casually. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to run. I’ve so many preparations to make before your sibling is born.”

Before Emma could lunge for her, she disappeared in a cloud of green smoke.

Neal. She’d killed Neal. She’d killed Neal and she’d cursed Hook and she’d taken her magic and she was going after her unborn sibling.

She reached for her phone to call Henry, but she spotted a text message from Hook. _I’m on my way over, love._ It was time-stamped nearly ten minutes ago, and sure enough, she could hear footsteps in the hallway outside.

“What happened?” he demanded as soon as he walked in through the still-open door.

“Zelena was here,” she said. He took her hand and she realized she was shaking. “She was gloating. She killed Neal. Oh my god.”

“Swan,” he said softly, and he embraced her. “We’ll stop her. I promise.”

“I don’t know how,” she said weakly. “She took my magic.”

“We’ll find another way,” he said. He pulled away and studied her face. “Now, tell me what happened last night.”

“David just screamed and swore at us,” she said. “Henry stood up to him—it was really brave of him.”

“Aye, Davey can be terrifying when he’s angry,” Hook admitted. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything to him. He’s furious with me as well.”

“You did the right thing. It doesn’t matter that he and Mary Margaret don’t understand. It would have been wrong to know about the danger they’re in, but not tell them.”

“What exactly did he say to you?” He led her to the couch. “My apologies—you just seem really shaky,” he added as he sat her down and then took a seat beside her.

“He just accused me of showing up and ruining everyone’s lives, especially yours,” she said shamefully. “And I guess he’s right. Even if it was the witch buying you drinks, my behavior … it still caused you to go and order a drink in the first place.”  
“Love, being attacked by a flying monkey is what caused me to go and order a drink in the first place.” He chuckled.

“David went on a bit of a rant about you,” she said carefully. “About … your drinking.”

He sighed; he clearly understood exactly what she was too afraid to ask him. “I was driving home from the bar after having a few drinks when the accident happened. I was known for my drinking; I would challenge people to drinking contests and win all the time, I never went anywhere without my flask, and I would have at least one drink every single night without fail. So everyone assumed that the accident was my fault because I must have been drunk.”

“In truth, I shouldn’t have been driving,” he admitted. “The intersection where the accident occurred was one I knew well as a deputy. We dealt with people running that stop sign all the time, and the problem was so bad that the transportation department had just voted to add a stop light to the intersection to make it safer. Had I been sober, it would have occurred to me to slow down.”

“You don’t know that,” she pointed out. She reached out and put her hand on his knee.

“Well, I do know that they tested my blood alcohol level as soon as they could, which was difficult given that I was being rushed to surgery at the time. I was within the legal limit, although not by very much. David refused to arrest me, since I was under the limit and since Milah Gold had just blown through the stop sign. Regina had to meet with me and make me guarantee that I’d never drink again.”

He pushed up his right sleeve with his prosthetic to show her his tattoo. “I got this tattoo to remind me of the promise I made, and what’s at stake. Milah Gold didn’t deserve what happened to her, and I can’t ever forget that.” He caught her glancing at his left arm in response. “Losing my hand wasn’t a choice I made,” he added. “This was a reminder I chose.”

“I understand,” she said. She didn’t bother asking why he’d selected a heart with a dagger going through it; she suspected that Dylan Smith would only have a vague idea of why he’d opted for that design.

He swallowed hard and pulled his shirt back over his wrist. “People saw me at the Rabbit Hole. I’m probably going to lose my job.”

“It’s okay,” she said, thinking about how he really had nothing to fear. He hadn’t really killed Milah; he wouldn’t really lose his job. But he didn’t know that. “Thank you for telling me.” She tugged at his hand.

He looked up at her and smiled sadly. “Regretting your decision to kiss me?” he asked. He was trying to sound casual, but the way he asked the question, she got the feeling he was worried she would say yes.

“I don’t regret it,” she said.

“But it cost you your magic,” he said.

“You said we’d find another way, and I believe you.”

He turned red. “You make me feel like a blushing school boy.” She laughed. “I mean it,” he continued. “I feel so unsure of myself—completely terrified—but I just can’t stop thinking about you.” He slid his hand from hers and slowly moved it up her arm.

She recalled Zelena’s taunts, and what the witch had bragged about doing to Hook. _The desperate admission of love I needed._ “You—you’re in love with me,” she said. Her words sounded incredibly stupid once she said them out loud.

His blush deepened, and he looked away, his hand still on her arm. “I know, it makes no sense,” he said sadly. “I’ve known you for barely three weeks. I kept trying to convince myself it was some sort of infatuation, but it’s … it’s deeper than that.” He met her eyes. “Emma, I’m sorry. But I do. I do love you.”

She knew it wasn’t just infatuation. Dylan might have only known her for a few weeks, but he was experiencing Hook’s feelings.

She and Hook hadn’t spoken much about the depth of his feelings for her, but it had been obvious. The wrecked expression on his face after their kiss; the embarrassment he’d shown when admitting (in front of her parents) that he was falling for her; the passion with which he’d told her he’d win her heart; and the desperate sadness in his voice when he’d told her that he’d think of her every day of their forced separation.

Hook had loved her, and now, when he had a second chance—when he had a chance _not_ to—he still loved her.

And it no longer terrified her. It made her feel relieved. Because she had a second chance, too.

“You said you’d win my heart,” she said softly. In her mind’s eye, she could imagine his smug reaction. _Aye, as I predicted lass. Does that surprise you?_ And he’d raise an eyebrow at her and smirk.

But he wasn’t Hook anymore. He was Dylan, and Dylan was just confused. “I—I think I would remember saying that,” he said. “I wasn’t _that_ drunk.”

“No,” she said. “You don’t remember. But you did say it.”

“When?”  
“It’s not important,” she said dismissively. “I just—Dylan, everyone here is cursed. You’re cursed not to remember who you are.”

He looked at her skeptically. She continued. “It’s—I can’t explain it very easily. I’m sorry. But your head is filled with memories of a past that _didn’t_ happen, and you’re missing the past that _did.”_

“So you’re saying,” he said slowly, as if to make sure he understood what she meant, “that in reality, I knew you already.”

“Yes,” she said. “You knew me. And you—you loved me. That’s why you feel this way. Because you already did, and it’s … it’s sort of bleeding through.”

“Did you …” He paused and took a deep breath. “Did you feel as I did?”

“No, I didn’t,” she whispered, and his face fell. He took a shaky breath and stared down at his lap. “But I do now.”

He stared at her for a moment, looking as surprised as she felt about her own admission. And then he kissed her.


	12. The Awakening

Henry felt a strange pulse, and then a light breeze as Regina gasped and pulled back to stare at him. “Henry?” she asked softly. “Henry!” It was no longer a question. She embraced him, more tightly than she ever had in her life—even when she’d rescued him in Neverland. “Henry, Henry, Henry,” she sobbed.

He was still crying, too. “Mom. Mom, I missed you so much.”

She finally pulled away and studied his face, tears still pouring down hers. “Henry, how did you know to come back here?”

“A few weeks ago, we just remembered,” he explained. “We left right away, thinking it meant the town was back.”

“That’s right,” she said. “It’s only been a few weeks.” She sighed heavily. “Well, now I know what everyone else dealt with during the first curse. It felt like a lifetime spent here.”

“That’s what it felt like in New York, when we didn’t have our memories,” he said. At the mention of his cursed state, Regina’s tears started up anew and she hugged him again. Part of him was embarrassed—he was _twelve,_ he wasn’t a little kid anymore, geez!—but for the most part, he was just relieved. For the first time since they’d arrived in Storybrooke, he was finally really _home._

“Zelena,” Regina said suddenly. “That b—witch,” she corrected herself. “We’ve got to stop her, Henry.”

“She said she wants to go back in time,” he said.

“I know. She’s going to go back in time and kill Snow White’s mother,” she explained. “Cora chose to give up Zelena for a chance at gaining social status and power. She tried to do that when she was still pregnant with Zelena, but Snow’s mother ruined it. Zelena believes that if Cora hadn’t given her up, _she_ would have had everything I did.”

“Including a controlling parent and an unhappy marriage?”

“Let this be a lesson to you, Henry: this is what people mean when they say that the grass is always greener on the other side.”

“My dad said that my mom’s magic is the only thing that can stop her.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Regina explained. “We cast the curse again—well, your grandparents did—so we could get back here and find Emma. We need to go to her right now.”

“There’s a problem—wait, my grandparents cast the curse?”

“They had to, Henry. You’re the thing that I love the most. Even if I could convince myself to rip out your heart for the curse—I promise I wouldn’t, you _know_ that, don’t look at me like that—it would have been impossible.”

“But I’ve seen them,” he said. “They’re both alive.”

“Yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “Snow convinced me to break her heart into two pieces and put one piece inside each of them.”

“That sounds anatomically impossible.”

“Thank god for magic then, right? Let’s go—it’s convenient that your grandparents live in the same building you and Emma do.”

“Wait, but that’s the problem!”

“What’s the problem?”

“Zelena got rid of Emma’s magic,” he said quietly. It felt like he was tattling.

Regina was horrified. “How? Henry, the Good Witch of the South was _very_ specific. We need the wielder of the strongest light magic.”

“It’s … I don’t know if she wants me to tell people,” he said awkwardly. Saying it out loud would make it sound like his mom was just a stupid girl who was caught up in romance.

“Henry,” Regina said; her tone made it clear that she expected to be told.

“Zelena did something to Hook.”

“Hook? Like, she threatened him and Emma traded her magic for him?” She sounded irritated, as if she expected Emma to just give up the pirate’s life to avoid losing her magic.

“Um, she cursed Hook so that when he kissed my mom, she’d lose her magic.”

She rolled her eyes. “Figures. Well, let’s go anyway.”

“Regina?” It was Mr. Green, with Alex trailing behind him. Regina looked shocked. “Regina, do you remember?”

That’s right, Henry remembered. Mr. Green had feelings for her, and thought she felt the same way.

“I … I do,” she said quietly.

“She took your heart, didn’t she?” he asked, his voice lowering to match her volume.

“Yes.”

“We’ll get it back,” he reassured her. He then looked down at Henry, who shifted uncomfortably. “So, it looks like you found your son after all.”

“He found me,” she replied. Her voice broke a little; either she felt very emotional about using those words to describe the situation, or (more likely) she found it really ridiculous that she was using the Charmings’ favorite phrase. “And you found me, too,” she added.

Without another word, Mr. Green walked straight up to Regina and kissed her. “Daddy,” said Alex, who promptly covered his eyes. Henry felt his face burn with embarrassment. This was worse than just _hearing_ about Emma and Hook kissing.

“What was that for?” Regina asked as she pulled away, although she didn’t sound particularly angry.

“Please, milady,” Mr. Green said with a smile. “Can you truly deny that that’s where this has been heading?”

“We butted heads _all_ the time,” she said, sounding a little shocked.

“In the Enchanted Forest? Yes, I suppose,” he agreed. “But here, even _you_ recognized what it really was—flirting.” He still had his arms around her, and he became suddenly more serious. “Regina, my feelings for you weren’t created by the curse. I think you know that.”

“Maybe let’s not do this in front of our sons,” she said quietly. She turned to Henry, and he could see that she was as red as he probably was. “Henry, this is Robin …” she paused and rolled her eyes. “Hood.”

Henry wasn’t able to entirely stifle his laugh. “Wait, really? You’re Robin Hood?” Mr. Green. Well, that made sense. “How did you end up with Mr. Gold’s shop?”

“It wasn’t _my_ curse,” he said defensively. “But back in the Enchanted Forest, after Rumplestiltskin disappeared, I sort of … moved into his estate. I suppose the curse decided to give me the comparable identity here.”

“Daddy,” Alex said insistently.

“Oh, and this is Roland,” Robin said, patting his son on the shoulder. “Roland, you remember Henry.”

“Hi,” Roland said.

“Hi.”

“We need to get going,” Regina reminded them.

“After you, your Majesty,” Robin said, winking. She rolled her eyes, but as she beckoned for Henry to walk with her, he could see that she was smiling a little.

* * *

 Emma felt a brief pulse and light breeze that teased her hair gently, but she was too distracted by the feeling of Hook’s lips on hers to think about where either had come from. He pulled back from the kiss briefly, roughly whispering, “Swan,” before diving back in. He was embracing her even more tightly than he had the day before, but given that she’d pretty much _just_ admitted that she _loved_ him, things were bound to get more passionate.

To her surprise, though, he broke the kiss again. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

He moved his hand and prosthetic so that he was cradling her face. “Nothing,” he said quietly. His face lit up as he smiled adoringly at her. “I just … I can’t quite believe my good fortune. My greatest fear was that I would never see you again.”

“That you would …” she repeated in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“Love, the curse,” he said insistently. He gently caressed her cheek with his thumb. “It’s broken.”

Broken. It was Hook. It was _really_ Hook. But that meant—

“The kiss,” she whispered. But it wasn’t possible. She’d only _just_ managed to accept that she even loved him. She wasn’t ready for it to be as big as _that._

She knew that he sensed her distress (because of _course,_ he could still read her like a professional). “Don’t think about it,” he said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“But—”

“No, Swan,” he said, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He leaned in to kiss her again, and her mind seemed to go almost blank. Hook was back. He still loved her.

She grabbed him around his waist, snaking her hands up his back, underneath his shirt. She felt him chuckle softly against her mouth before running his tongue against her lips to coax her mouth open. Within a few minutes, both of their shirts were on the floor, she was on her back on the couch, and Hook was leaning over her, fiddling with the fly of her jeans.

The phone rang.

“Of _course,”_ she said, irritated. Hook let out an annoyed sigh and leaned back so she could pull her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. “Hello?”

It was David. “Emma! Emma, thank god I reached you!”

“David, what’s wrong?”

“You need to come to the hospital now!”

“What happened? Is everything okay?”

“Your mother went into labor last night—”

“She what?!” She met Hook’s concerned stare. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or Hook?”

“I was mad at both of you, and it was happening so fast—listen, just get here _now_ and call Regina!”

“Did he call Zelena?” Hook interrupted.

“Is that Hook?”

“Yeah, hold on.” She passed the phone over.

“Davey, tell me you didn’t call her. Okay, good. Yeah, I’ll try to see if it’s at the shop. David, I don’t think Robin’s going to be upset if I break in—it’s for a good cause. Um, we were just talking and—” He abruptly ended the call. “I am _not_ discussing _this_ with your father,” he said seriously.

The door opened. “Ugh, _Mom!”_

She was reasonably sure she’d had a nightmare like this before. Henry, Regina, Green, and Alex were standing in the doorway, staring. Henry looked disgusted, Alex looked curious, Regina looked irritated, and Green looked highly amused. “Well, sorry to interrupt,” he said jovially.

“It’s nice to see that you were being so productive while we were breaking the curse,” Regina said drily.

“You—you broke the curse?” Emma asked, mostly feeling relieved that Hook had been trying to take off her pants before he took off her bra.

“Well, yes, obviously,” Regina replied. “You hadn’t noticed that you were getting busy with Hook, not Dylan?”

Emma exchanged glances with Hook, who was still kneeling awkwardly on the couch, holding her phone. “My dad just called,” she said, grabbing her shirt and pulling it on as quickly as she could. “My mom went into labor last night. They’re already at the hospital.”

“Perhaps the captain and I should head over to the pawn shop,” Green said. “I know for a fact that his hook is there, as is the prince’s sword. I’d like to arm myself as well.”

“Then we’d better go,” Regina said, nodding. “Zelena might be there any minute.”

“David didn’t call her,” Hook mentioned. “He took our warning seriously enough that they were putting it off.”

“Then we might have enough time. Savior, you come with me and Henry, while Hook and Robin head to the shop.”

“Robin?”

“Robin Hood,” Green said, tilting his head a little in acknowledgement. “And my son, Roland. We heard a great deal about you in the Enchanted Forest, so it’s nice that we’ve finally met.”

“I, uh … nice to meet you, too,” she said, awkwardly. Regina gave her an impatient glare, and she scurried off the couch to get her boots, her jacket, and her gun while Hook pulled on his shirt and grabbed his own belongings.

“We’ll see you at the hospital?” Robin asked Regina as they exited the apartment building.

“Yes,” she replied. “I’ll call you if anything happens while you’re gone.” She flicked her eyes towards Emma and Henry for a moment before taking a step forward and tentatively kissing Robin. “Be careful.”

“Likewise.” He glanced at Roland and Henry. “Perhaps the boys should come with us?” he suggested.

“You’re not going to arm them, are you?” Regina asked wearily. Hook grinned.

“If the witch is already there, it’s no place for these young men,” Robin pointed out, and Regina nodded. She reached down to hug Henry, and she whispered something to him that Emma couldn’t hear.

Henry then came to hug her. “Sorry, kid,” she said.

He pulled back and looked at her quizzically. “Why? The curse is broken.”

“I mean …” She trailed off and gently jerked her head in Hook’s direction.

“Oh, ugh,” he said, making a face. “Yeah, maybe next time, just make sure you have actual privacy so I’m not scarred for life again.”

“I will,” she promised. “Now, stay safe.”

A few moments later, the boys were on their way to Gold’s shop, and she was in the car with Regina.

“Thank you,” she said immediately.

“For what?” Regina asked. “If anything, I should be thanking you, for bringing him back.”

“The memories,” Emma clarified. “I never exactly regretted that I gave him up for adoption. I was so young and heartbroken, I couldn’t have been the parent he needed. But I always wished that things had been different—that I would have felt capable of being his mother, capable enough to have kept him. I was jealous that you had the opportunity to raise him, to know him. And you gave me that.”

“I think both of us really needed to accept that we’re both his parents,” Regina acknowledged. After a pause, she added, “I’m so sorry about Neal.”

“Thank you.” Emma felt her face grow warm and her eyes grow a little wet. But now wasn’t the time to think about Neal. She had to focus on the situation at hand.

“Henry told me about what happened, with your magic,” she added.

Emma groaned. “I’m sorry! I really didn’t know what would happen. I’m embarrassed enough as it is.”

“Clearly not embarrassed enough to not make out with him again.” But Regina’s tone was clearly teasing. “Listen, Savior, you had no idea what would happen.”

“Neal warned me that my magic was what would defeat her.”

“And did he warn you that she would try to get rid of your magic by banking on you kissing Hook? Obviously, you feel guilty about it, but I think you need to accept that Zelena was messing with you like she’s messed with the rest of us. Now, as for feeling embarrassed about your choice of _partner_ …”

“Hold on,” Emma said. “Maybe we should talk about your little thing _you’ve_ got going.”

“My little—what? Robin?”

“Yeah! How did that happen? Was it just the curse or something?”

Regina took a deep breath. “Not really,” she admitted. “He joined our little club when we returned to the Enchanted Forest, and he irritated the crap out of me. He kept insisting on going with me places to protect me. He … well, I was so upset over Henry that I was considering using the sleeping curse on myself. He stopped me.”

Emma understood the logic—Regina wouldn’t wake up unless she’d been reunited with Henry. “Regina, it sounds like those are nice things he was doing for you.”

“I know,” she said, annoyed. “And while we were cursed, that was even more obvious. I don’t really know what to do, though.”

Emma laughed. “Regina, you _like_ him. He likes you. You enjoy it.”

“As long as you take your own advice,” she replied. “Although from the looks of it when we showed up today, you were.”

Thankfully, they’d arrived at the hospital. As Regina began setting up protection spells and shouting orders at the dwarves (well, the remaining dwarves—a few had gone missing) to prepare for Zelena’s arrival, Emma made a beeline for her mother’s hospital room.

The relieved smile on David’s face as he spotted her brought tears to her eyes. _This_ was what she had been missing. _This_ was what should have happened when she’d arrived in Storybrooke three weeks ago. _This_ was what should have been happening all along.

“Emma,” he whispered as he hugged her tightly. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened.”

“You couldn’t help it,” she said through her tears. “You were cursed.”

“That’s no excuse,” he said, although she figured it was probably the best excuse he could have had. “I will make it up to you—and to Henry. I promise.”

“Really, it’s okay,” she said, and she broke into a smile as she looked up into his face. An pained groan distracted her. She looked into the room to see her mother, who was in between contractions, looking entirely exhausted and miserable. “How’re you doing there, Mary Margaret?” She broke away from David to approach her mother.

“Oh, Emma,” she cried out. “Please don’t hug me, I feel like I’m going to die right now.” Another contraction started. “Oh god, oh god, why did I decide to do this again?!” David ushered her out of the room.

“I shouldn’t take up more of your time,” David said apologetically. “Regina must need your help with the protection spells.”

Emma blushed and wiped at her face. “It’s a long story, but I don’t have magic anymore,” she admitted.

“What? How?”

“It was Zelena. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“But we need your magic to stop her. That’s why we came back here.”

She looked at him questioningly. “You—you came back here on purpose?”

“To find you,” he insisted.

“But how? How could you curse yourselves? You have to kill someone to do that.”

David fidgeted nervously. “Uh … well, so … your mother did it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “But you’re still alive.”

“It’s weird,” he said. “She convinced Regina to split her heart in two so we could share it.”

“That’s not even possible,” she pointed out.

“Well, we’re both here and both alive, so clearly, it worked,” he said impatiently. “But I want to know how you knew to come back,” he said, changing the subject. “And how did the curse break?”

“We woke up a few weeks ago and just _remembered_ that day,” she explained. “When did you cast the curse?”

“About three weeks ago,” he confirmed. “So I guess with the town restored, your memories were restored as well. That’s pretty lucky.”

“As for the curse breaking, I think it was Henry and Regina.”

“You think?”

“I wasn’t there, David,” she pointed out, not wanting to explain that, coincidentally, she and Hook had been involved in a less chaste version of the same activity at the same time.

“Speaking of Henry, where is he? I want to hug him and, well ...” He nervously shuffled his feet. “I need to apologize to him, too.”

She smiled. “Hook and … Robin Hood went to get weapons, and they took the boys with them. We figured it was safer than bringing them with us while everyone was unarmed.”

David nodded. “That’s a good call.”

“David, get in here _now!”_ Mary Margaret wailed from the hospital room.

“You should,” Emma said sympathetically. “I’ll check in with Regina.”

She found Regina approaching the hospital room. “I’ve set up protective spells at every exit,” she said, “And I’ve added duplicate spells sporadically as well. Robin and Hook should be able to get through them. I need to add one to your parents’ hospital room now.”  
“Thank you. I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful.”

“We’ll figure it out. If we can keep her from your family long enough to get my heart or Gold’s dagger, we might not need your magic.”

“Mom!” It was Henry, although they weren’t sure which one he was talking to. “We’re back!” Robin, Hook, and Roland trailed behind him. Robin was armed with a fierce-looking crossbow and he was carrying David’s sword; Hook was wearing his namesake on his brace and his old cutlass around his waist. He had his gun as well—he was taking the whole “armed” thing seriously.

“We should find somewhere safe for the boys,” Robin suggested. “I’m going to deliver this to the prince.” He held up the sword. “Then I might as well secure some exits.”

Regina nodded. “I’ll find an empty hospital room and protect it.”

“Mom, come on,” Henry said. “I want to help.”

Regina squeezed his shoulder. “Henry, Zelena uses the people we love to hurt and manipulate us.” She glanced at Emma briefly. “You’ll be helping if I don’t have to worry about you.”

“She’s right,” Emma said. “Besides, you’d be protecting Roland.”

“I have coloring,” Roland said, holding up his activity book and a bag of crayons. Robin grinned and shrugged.

As Robin went into Mary Margaret’s room, Hook, Regina, and Emma searched the hallway for an empty room for Roland and Henry. As she began casting the protection spells, Hook touched Emma’s arm with his hook; it was strange to finally see it again after a few weeks, especially since he was still dressed in his modern attire. “Might we have a word?” he asked, and he pointed to another empty hospital room a couple of doors down. Regina nodded at them and went back to her spell.

Once inside, Hook closed the door and flipped the light switch on. “Is everything okay?” she asked nervously.

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, Swan, but I’m a little relieved we were interrupted earlier.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, not relieved about _the way_ we were interrupted.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, unsure of whether or not that was his complete thought.

“I just think that it’s important for you to know that … well, I’m not Dylan, love. I can’t be him anymore.”

“I know that,” she said.

“I just mean that, if you meant what you said earlier this morning … I understand if the curse being broken changes things.”

“It changes a lot,” she admitted, thinking of her parents, or how she was going to have to go back to sharing Henry with Regina.

He sighed; apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. “I don’t mean to make the situation more awkward, but perhaps, until you feel the same way about me as you did about Dylan, we should return to being friends.”

“What?”

He shook his head. “Swan, I understand. I do: you fell in love with Dylan. I do hope that perhaps in time, you’ll reciprocate my feelings. But I don’t want you to behave affectionately out of pity.”

“Are you serious?”

His frown deepened. “I know that the curse didn’t alter personalities terribly much, but you weren’t really spending these past few weeks with me.”

“That’s what it felt like,” she admitted. “Do you know how many times I almost called you ‘Hook?’” She walked closer to him and touched his arm. “I knew it was you the whole time. I didn’t kiss you because I felt bad for Dylan or I was falling for Dylan. I kissed you because I was falling for _you.”_

“So you’re saying …” he prompted, a grin spreading on his face.

“I think you know what I’m saying,” she said, irritated.

“Very well,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically. He carefully placed his left arm behind her back and ran his fingers through her hair before kissing her softly. “And if you’re not ready to say it, that’s fine. I understand you have your dignity to maintain.”

She laughed. “I—” But his facial expression changed dramatically. He was looking at something behind her, through the little window in the door, and he’d gone white. She twisted around to see Zelena grinning at them from the other side; she waved before walking down the hallway … towards Mary Margaret’s room.

“No!” Emma bolted to the door and began tugging on it violently. Somehow, it was completely locked, as if it were part of the wall. On the other side, Gold was holding out his hand, as if casting a spell. “Gold! You’ve got to let us out!” She pulled harder, but nothing happened.

“Get the dagger,” he hissed, his voice dampened by the door in between them. Emma heard shouts from farther down the hall—it sounded like Robin. “Get the dagger, or I can’t stop.” He seemed to be about to say something more, but he jerked violently before continuing to walk down the hall.

She pulled at the door handle and pounded on the door until Hook finally put his arms around her and pulled her away. She heard wails and screams from down the hall.

It was over. She had failed.


	13. The Battle

They were trapped in the hospital room for about an hour in relative silence. The wails had mostly quieted, although every so often, there were softer cries and moans. After about ten minutes, Hook checked to see if the door was still locked—it was—and managed to see someone lying in the hallway, almost completely out of his line of vision. It was impossible to tell who it was or if they were alive or not.

He’d tried to sit Emma down on the exam table, but she had instead collapsed onto the floor and was leaning against the table uncomfortably. She saw no point in moving, though; if anything, she _deserved_ her discomfort. If she still had her magic, she could have stopped Zelena already, and none of this would be happening. She wouldn’t have to worry where Henry was and if he was all right. There wouldn’t be someone—probably someone she knew or cared about—lying helpless or dead on the floor in the hallway. Her mother wouldn’t be having yet _another_ traumatic labor. Her brother or sister wouldn’t be in danger.

But she didn’t have her magic. If she could have _just_ waited until this whole mess had been over before sucking face with Hook, none of this would be happening.

Why _had_ she even done it in the first place? She thought back to their conversation that had led her to kiss him. She could have just reassured him that he was a wonderful guy. She could have kissed his cheek. She could have told him that she liked him, but that Neal had _just_ died and she needed time.

Maybe she wasn’t even really falling for him in the first place. She _had_ always found him attractive, even when he was being an insufferable asshole. The moment atop the beanstalk when he’d used his teeth to bandage her hand was one that, she did have to admit, made an appearance in her fantasies more than once.

Everything was adding up now, she told herself. She had just been making out with Hook for comfort, because she felt bad for him, because it had been safe for her to act on her attraction. And she should have known better. It wasn’t even as if their kiss had broken the curse—clearly, Regina and Henry had done it. She had no such excuse. Their kiss in Neverland should have stayed a one time thing.

“Swan?” Hook asked gently.

She didn’t reply. What could she say? She just looked at the floor. He slid down to sit beside her and took her hand in his. She didn’t move away, but she didn’t react either. For now, she’d let him touch her.

Eventually, the heart-broken wails resumed, as did the shouting. After a few moments, the door to the room opened; it was David, wearing a surgical gown. A surgical mask hung around his neck, and he carried his sword, which made him look a little absurd. He looked angry and terrified. “She took your brother,” he said quietly.

She already knew.

“Love?” Hook asked. He and David exchanged a concerned glance, which she found suddenly irritating. She recalled the way that her parents had prodded her to give Neal a chance, and they’d barely even known him. She wasn’t sure how much of a friendship Hook had with David (or Mary Margaret) besides the one they’d had under the curse, but they had certainly grown to understand each other in Neverland, and there was the possibility that he’d stayed by their side during the past year. Would David and Mary Margaret now pressure her to give _him_ chance?

“I’m going after her,” David said. “It doesn’t really matter that I don’t have what it takes to defeat her. If she succeeds, I lose my wife, my children, and my grandson, so I’m going to go down fighting.”

“I’m coming, too,” Hook said, releasing her hand and standing. “No sense in letting you die alone, mate.”

Robin appeared in the doorway behind David; he was rubbing at his temples. “I’m in as well, assuming this headache passes. Apparently, being knocked unconscious magically still packs quite a punch.”

“Are you okay?” Emma couldn’t see her, but Regina was just outside. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t get to you in time.”

“I’m all right,” he replied. “Are you coming with us?”

“I don’t see why,” she said bitterly. “As we learned in the Enchanted Forest, I’m no match for her magically. Only light magic can defeat her, and our Savior was fooled into giving hers up.”

“Hey!” Both David and Hook protested Regina’s tone, but Emma privately agreed. She’d been careless and she’d lost her magic. Regina was right.

“Wait!” It was Henry. Emma scrambled to her feet—he was okay! She made her way to the door to see him come up behind Regina. “You _can_ use light magic, Mom!”

“Which one of us are you talking to?” Regina asked.

“You,” Henry replied.

“Henry, I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m a bit limited to dark magic.”

“No,” Emma said. Henry was right. “Regina, True Love’s Kiss—that’s _light_ magic.”

Regina seemed shocked. “But … I don’t even have my heart right now.”

“But I know you still love me,” Henry said insistently. “And you were still able to break the curse. I know you can do this, Mom!”

“Can I … can I talk to you for a second?” Regina asked Emma. Before she could answer, everyone else cleared out of the room and the doorway. Regina stepped in the room and closed the door. “Emma, I don’t think I can do this.”

“You have to.” This was their only chance. “I don’t have any magic, and you do. You can do this.”

“It’s just …” She looked down for a moment, as if to gather her thoughts. “I’ve never cast light magic before. I wouldn’t even begin to know how to do it.”

“Regina, you _have._ That’s why the kiss worked. You just … conjure magic from a place of love instead of anger.”

The queen raised an eyebrow. “What, were you studying magic this past year or something?”

Emma shrugged. “I just know that you can do it. You have to. There’s too much at stake not to try.”

Regina nodded and moved for the door handle. But before she opened the door, she paused and turned. “Listen. I know I needled you about your … thing with Hook. And I won’t lie: I definitely made a few jokes at his expense when we were back in the Enchanted Forest. But Zelena is manipulative, petty, and amoral. When I say that no one is angry at you for losing your magic, I mean that.”

“Thank you,” Emma replied, trying to sound like she was grateful, and not bogged down in self-blame like she really was. “Now, I think it’s time to melt that witch.”

* * *

Henry stayed behind—mostly unwillingly—to stay with Mary Margaret and look after Roland. Leaving her mother, who was practically catatonic after the loss of yet _another_ child immediately after birth, was one of the most difficult things Emma had needed to do in recent memory. She knew that her father struggled with it even more. But they had to go after her brother.

Their motley crew piled into Regina’s Mercedes, and the mayor took off as David gave directions. Zelena had apparently not counted on the curse breaking; she’d invited David and Mary Margaret to her home on more than one occasion, and Regina hypothesized that the large barn David said was on the property was the best place to cast a very complicated, experimental time travel spell.

Meanwhile, they formulated a plan of attack. David would immediately go for the baby, and Robin would make a beeline for Regina’s heart. Meanwhile, if Rumplestiltskin was still alive (questionable, since Zelena needed his brain), Hook and Emma would distract him in any way they could to give Regina a chance to take down Zelena.

By the time they arrived at the barn, the spell was already in progress. There were strange trenches dug in circles and loops in the dirt floor of the building, and Emma spotted four bowls along the outer circle, one in each compass direction. There was Regina’s heart; there was Hook’s missing baton; there was a … solid gold brain, apparently; and there was her baby brother, crying and rocking back and forth in the basket he’d been placed in. Zelena and Rumplestiltskin stood in the center, and the witch waved the Dark One’s dagger at them in greeting.

“I didn’t expect such a wonderful send-off party!” she exclaimed. “Unfortunately, it’s a bit late. Rumple?” She gestured with the dagger.

Gold’s face was impassive as he flicked his hand. That was all the warning Emma got before she felt herself being unceremoniously flung into a wall. Mercifully, she landed on a pile of straw; Hook landed with a soft thump next to her. “Well, we’re off to a decent start,” he said bitterly.

“Sorry, sis.” Zelena didn’t _sound_ sorry, Emma thought irritably. “You might as well give up now. Soon, you’ll cease to exist, and I’ll enjoy all the privileges you felt so burdened with.”

“Not so fast, dearie.” She looked up in time to see Gold throw his hand up, an action which sent David flying backward, away from the baby. He’d been so close!

“It’s time to stop, Zelena,” Regina said, sounding calm in spite of the situation. Emma raised her gun to try to shoot Gold’s dagger from Zelena’s hand, but before she could pull the trigger, Gold himself stood in front of her. It became suddenly difficult to breathe; she heard Hook shout her name as she dropped her firearm and clutched at her throat.

“Stop her, or I can’t stop,” Gold said through clenched teeth, but her vision was getting spotty, and she couldn’t tell what was going on, and everything was going quiet and ...

“Swan? Emma? Darling?” She felt someone touch the pulse point in her neck. “I think she’s okay.” Hook.

“Did you get your son?” It was Regina.

“I did. Is she breathing?” David asked.

“She is.”

“Milady, I believe this is yours.” It was Robin.

“Thank you—hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

Emma’s eyes snapped open. She was lying on her back, looking up at the barn’s ceiling; Hook’s worried face peered down at her. She rolled over to push herself up and saw Regina approaching Gold, who was standing over someone—Zelena, through the process of elimination.

“She killed my son!” Gold shouted angrily.

“And we’ll hold her responsible,” David replied.

“That’s what I plan to do.”

“Good doesn’t kill,” Regina said insistently.

“Oh, so now you’re _good.”_

“I am,” she said, irritated. “Or did you not notice that I was able to wield the light magic that stopped her?”

“As exciting as it is to hear you all argue about what to do with the Wicked Witch, I know that Snow White is likely a little anxious to learn the fate of her child,” Hook interrupted. “Perhaps Robin and I can escort Ms. Spiros to the sheriff’s station while the royal family heads to the hospital.”

“Good idea,” David said. “Except we all took one car.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’ve got magic,” Gold snapped. Before any clarifications could be made, Emma blinked, and found that she, her father, and the baby were now in the hospital, just outside Mary Margaret’s room. David immediately bounded into the room with the baby, and Henry rushed out to help Emma stand; she was still lying on the ground, half-propped up.

“Mom! What happened?” he asked. “How did you stop her? Did Regina do it?”

“Yeah,” she said shakily. “Sorry, Gold was there and Zelena made him attack us. I’m still recovering from that.”

“Let’s find a doctor,” he said, tugging at her arm.

“Nah, I’ll be okay. Let’s go see your new uncle.”

She knew she should feel overwhelming relief: her family was safe, Zelena had been stopped, and she didn’t seem to be suffering any lasting damage from Gold’s attack. At the very least, Zelena’s defeat should have been satisfying. But as she hugged her parents, held Henry close to her, and felt her new baby brother wrap his tiny hand around her finger, she couldn’t help but feel empty.

Zelena shouldn’t have been able to take her brother in the first place. All Emma had to do was _not_ kiss Hook—it would have been so simple—and Zelena never would have gotten so close to winning. Something that she’d forgotten, along with everything else during that year in New York, was that being the Savior meant that she didn’t get a day off. She didn’t have the luxury of just relaxing, or being vulnerable with someone. She’d grown complacent, and she’d have to correct that.

That evening, she tried to wind down in the too-quiet apartment. Henry had decided to stay with Regina for the next several nights, something Emma wasn’t going to argue against. After experiencing the life Regina had given them, she had no desire to keep mother parted from child any longer. They’d figure out a schedule at some point, but in the meantime, Henry would stay with Regina. Emma would focus on figuring out what to do with Zelena, helping her parents with her new brother, and deciding what to do now that the second curse was broken. She doubted that David would agree to step down as sheriff, but … well, _she’d_ been voted into office, and he hadn’t.

Her phone rang; she felt a little silly for being surprised to see it was Hook. She still had him entered into her phone as “Dylan Smith,” which, for some reason, made her feel sad and angry.

“Hey,” she answered softly, trying to mask the emotions that had just welled up unexpectedly.

“Is this a bad time? Has Henry gone to bed?”

“He’s with Regina. How did things go at the station?”

“Fine. She’s rotting in her cell for now. Regina had some suggestions for how to deal with her, since this world’s justice system might find the situation a bit unbelievable.”

“Very true.”

“How’s your brother doing? How are your parents?”

“They’re doing really well,” she replied. “They’re staying at the hospital for another night; Whale wants to keep them under observation in case. The whole ordeal was just so stressful for Mary Margaret, and while the baby seems fine, they just want to make sure that the spell had no lasting effects.”

“And you?”

She let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding; she’d dreaded him asking that question. “I’m as well as I could be, I guess.”

“I was going to just stop by, but I thought better of it because Henry might be home. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad idea?”

“No, it’s fine.” She wasn’t sure what she’d say to him if he did come over. He’d probably want to finish what they’d started earlier, before they were interrupted. She’d felt similarly, until Zelena trapped her in that hospital room, leaving her helpless to stop the kidnapping of her brother.

“Swan, are you sure?”

“Yes.” Her tongue felt too big for her mouth.

“Okay. I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Really?”

“I …” He seemed to be unsure of what to say. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed. I’ll let you get some rest.”

“Okay. You should rest, too.”

“Good night, love.”

“Good night.”

But she didn’t sleep at all.


	14. The Portal

The following morning, she awoke to the phone ringing. This time, it was David.

“Is everything okay with the baby? And Mary Margaret?”

“Everyone’s fine,” he said. “We were on our way home and stopped for breakfast, and we bumped into Regina and Henry. But while we were at Granny’s, we saw a column of light from the barn. I’m dropping your mother and brother off at the apartment, but then I’m heading to the station to see what Zelena did. You up for coming?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll get dressed quickly. See you soon.” She hung up and jumped out of bed, her body still feeling an uncomfortable blend of stiff and achey that was the result the emotional and physical turmoil she’d suffered the previous day. As she was pulling on her boots, and nearly falling over in the process, David arrived.

“So how are you holding up?” she asked as they hopped into his truck.

He smiled widely. “I’m great. I’m just so relieved. I know we have this nice new crisis to deal with, but I can’t stop thinking about how I’m going home later to see my _son.”_

She smiled back. She knew that feeling, thanks to Regina. She had vivid memories of holding Henry for the first time, of knowing that they’d be separated for another couple of months while she finished her sentence, of how excited she was that first night, to be reunited with him.

“A year ago, I never thought we’d see you again,” he continued. “I’m so grateful that we’re so fortunate to have both of our children now. We missed you so much, you _and_ Henry.”

“We’ve missed you, too.” He quickly gave her a confused glance before turning his eyes back to the road. “I mean, the past few weeks,” she clarified. “It was …” She wasn’t sure how to proceed.

“I know,” he said gently. “It must have been awful, knowing who we were, but having us not remember you. Or, you know, having us show up at your apartment to scream at you.” She chuckled weakly. “I mean it. I’m so embarrassed. I’m so sorry, Emma.”

“Honestly, it’s okay,” she said. “I know that you’d do anything to protect your family. It was … terrifying being on the other side of that, but it made me see how much you actually love me and Henry. You’d do the same to anyone threatening your family.”

“I’m glad you see it that way, but I still feel like an ass about it.” As they pulled into the parking lot of the station, she spotted several cars already there: Regina’s, Robin’s, and Hook’s. “By the way, how are you holding up?” he asked as he parked. “I know you were really upset yesterday.”

“I’m fine,” she said as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “We won.”

“Hook told me that you seemed really upset last night, and that you didn’t want to see him.”

Emma had already opened the truck door, but after that comment, she slammed it shut again. “Okay, so are you guys, like … besties now or something?”

He seemed genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I know that cursed David Nolan and Dylan Smith were friends. But that was the _curse._ Right?”

He sighed. “Zelena interfered with the curse so that we’d lose our memories, but your mother and I are the ones who cast it in the first place. We weren’t trying to take away everyone’s happy endings, so relationships were generally preserved.”

“So what does that mean?”

“It means that your mother and I were still married here, unlike during the last curse.” He sighed. “And it means that Dylan Smith and David Nolan were friends here in Storybrooke because Hook and I _are_ friends now.”

“Well, it’s good to know,” she said, more bitterly than she intended. “I’d appreciate it, then, if you two wouldn’t talk about me behind my back.”

“Emma, he mentioned it in passing!” She angrily opened the door and stepped out of the truck, and he quickly did the same, unwilling to let her escape the conversation. “He was calling about Zelena, and I asked him if he’d already called you. It’s not like we were having a heart-to-heart about your relationship.”

“We don’t have a relationship,” she said, her voice angry and low as he walked around the car. “Look, I just needed clarification so I’d know what stuff is safe to talk about with you, and what’s going to get back to Hook. And vice versa.”

“Emma, please.” He touched her arm. “There’s no reason to get this upset over a _phone_ conversation.”

She shook him off. “Let’s just go deal with this.”

Emma hadn’t ever seen so many people inside the station before. Regina and Henry were there, as were Robin and Roland; she briefly wondered if Robin really didn’t know any babysitters in Storybrooke. Hook—of course—began staring at her from the moment she walked in, but she averted her eyes. Instead, she focused on Gold, who looked very irritated, and Belle, whom she hadn’t seen since her arrival in Storybrooke three weeks ago.

“Emma,” Belle said warmly, greeting her with a hug. “Emma, I am _so_ sorry about Neal. I feel terrible that I wasn’t at the funeral.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know,” Emma replied. “I should have made a point to see you.”

“I wouldn’t have been as appreciative of your company as I should have been,” she replied. “And it’s not important now.”

“What _is_ important,” Regina said impatiently, “is that my sister seems to be missing, and her time portal is open.”

“Missing?” Emma asked. Regina gestured to the empty cell. “Could she have used magic?”

“She shouldn’t have been able to,” Regina said. “That pendant she always wore contained all of her magic, and I took that away from her.”

“She’s right,” David confirmed. “The Good Witch of the South told us that if we could remove that pendant, Zelena would be rendered powerless. She shouldn’t have been able to do anything to escape.”

“Not magically,” Emma pointed out. “I haven’t ever had to try picking the lock in that cell, but it’s worth considering. Let’s check out the security tapes.”

As David went to get the tapes and the ancient television and tape player, Hook approached her. “Are you feeling any better?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said curtly.

“Are you sure? Because you don’t seem fine.”

“Can we not talk about this right now?” she asked, trying to keep her voice down. Before he could reply, her father had returned and was setting up.

“We really need to update this system,” David said; the recording was a little fuzzy, and for a moment, Emma was worried that the tape would end up falling apart before they could see anything happening. Fortunately, though, after a few glitchy moments, the recording evened out. Zelena was visible, lounging in her cell; David began to fast forward until—

“Wait! She’s gone now. Rewind it.”

He did so, and they watched: sometime around midnight, Zelena abruptly stood, as if awakened by someone. But there was no one present, and after a few moments, she backed herself against the wall, snapped her fingers, turned to stone, and crumbled into dust.

“How did she do that?” Emma asked.

“I don’t know,” Regina admitted. “Maybe she had enough magic left within her to kill herself. But that explains what happened.”

“How?” David asked.

“The magic in her pendant, now that it’s not tethered to her in any way, must have been released,” Gold chimed in. “It would have attempted to finish casting her last spell.”

“So she’s definitely dead,” Emma said, needing confirmation. Regina and Gold nodded. “That’s a start. How do we close the time portal?”

Gold laughed. “The same way you close any portal.”

She thought back to last year, when Tamara had opened that portal in the cannery. It had remained open, pulling at both Emma and Neal, until Neal had let go and fallen through. “Someone has to go through,” she said.

“Precisely,” Gold said. “And since the entire point of stopping Zelena was to prevent her from going back in time and changing the past, I doubt it would be a good idea for _anyone_ to travel through it.”

“Wait,” Hook said. “If it must be closed like any other portal, does that mean it works similarly to any other portal?”

“I suppose,” Gold said. “What do you have in mind?”

Hook leaned thoughtfully against a desk. “When you open a portal, you think about your destination and the portal takes you there. By that logic, a time portal takes you to the time you’re thinking of.”

“But how would that help?” Regina asked.

“Oh!” Henry clearly understood Hook’s train of thought. “It’s easy! You just think about going maybe a minute into the future, and the time portal spits you out a minute into the future! You don’t _have_ to go into the past at all.”

“I think Henry is right,” Gold acknowledged. “But if you’ll forgive me, I don’t think I will be the one to test it.”

“No one asked you,” Regina said, rolling her eyes.

“Then I’m glad that I haven’t disappointed anyone,” he retorted. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to pay my respects to my son.” He stormed out, and Belle waved apologetically at everyone before following him.

“There’s a chance this won’t work,” David said after a few moments.

“We have to try,” Hook said. “Otherwise, it won’t close.”

“I’ll do it,” Emma volunteered quietly. To her surprise, _everyone_ protested loudly. “What, why not?”

“Emma, I’ll do it,” Hook said, irritated. “You need to stay with your family. And I wouldn’t have brought up the theory if I weren’t willing to test it myself. You can’t risk sacrificing yourself in case it doesn’t work.”

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do,” she replied angrily. “I’m the Savior, and I haven’t been doing much saving lately. So, I’m going to do this.”

“You haven’t done much saving?” he asked cynically. “What about—” But he stopped himself suddenly, and looked around at the rest of the group, blushed furiously, and stared at the floor.

“Arguing’s not going to do any good, is it?” David asked.

“Nope,” she replied, and he sighed. After a few more moments of silence, she chuckled. “No pun intended, but I suppose there’s no time like the present.” She patted Henry on the shoulder and made her way down the hallway to the exit.

Naturally, she thought with irritation, Hook caught up with her. “You’re not coming with me,” she told him as she pushed open the door.

“What, you’re just going to walk all the way there?” he asked. “I’m driving you, obviously, and don’t argue.” She opened her mouth to do just that, but when she turned to look at him, his face was stony with anger. Refusing his offer of a ride would likely just cause more frustration for both of them.

He didn’t waste any time once he began driving. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked immediately.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she lied.

“You know, Swan, for someone who is so proud of her ability to determine when a person is lying, you are quite absurdly terrible at lying yourself. I already know _something’s_ wrong, so you might as well tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” she lied again. “Zelena’s dead, my family is safe, and I’m going to close up this time portal. Everything’s fine.”

“Everything’s fine,” he said, mimicking her tone, “except that yesterday, you were kissing me passionately and telling me that you were falling for me, and all of a sudden, you’ve become rather ferocious about refusing to talk to me.”

“Yesterday was really confusing,” she said. “A lot of stuff happened. Can you blame me if I need time to process everything?”

“No, I couldn’t,” he said. “But that’s not what’s really going on.”

“You’re _not_ psychic,” she replied angrily. “You might think I’m an open book, but a lot’s changed in the past year. So stop analyzing me and just leave me alone, okay? I want to be _left alone.”_

He was unexpectedly silent for the rest of the ride. It was what she had wanted, but by the time they arrived at the barn, she had a bitter taste in her mouth. They both stared at the column of light for a few moments. “Do you have your magic back now that Zelena’s dead?” he asked.

She experimentally focused on the phone in her lap, willing it to float, thinking about how angry she was that Zelena had managed to open the portal. Nothing happened, although perhaps she needed to think positively for it to work. She then thought about how relieved she was that her family was safe; again, nothing happened. “No,” she said.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said. But she shook her head, not wanting to dwell on it, at least not any more than she already was. “Perhaps you shouldn’t attempt this—the Dark One could easily do it. If something goes wrong, he’d have his magic to protect him.”

“No,” she said, more harshly than she intended. “I mean, I just don’t trust Gold—or even Regina—to jump into the portal and not abuse the whole time travel thing. And besides, Gold won’t do it anyway—you were there at the station. I’m going to do it, and that’s final. You should stay back,” she added. “If it’s anything like the portal I dealt with last year, it’ll try to suck in anyone nearby.”

“As you wish,” he said softly. She felt her neck crack slightly as she whipped her head towards him. If he knew what the phrase meant in this world (and, given that he had cursed memories of living here all his life, it seemed likely that he had memories of reading or watching _The Princess Bride),_ he wasn’t showing any awareness of what he’d _really_ said.

In Neverland, when he’d said it after their kiss, she’d found it amusing. He had no idea at that time that the phrase could mean something more than it did, and she hadn’t read into it anyway. After all, the idea that he could be in love with her at that point had been absurd.

But now, it felt like she’d been hit with a ton of bricks. She already knew how he felt; she would have been able to guess even if Dylan hadn’t come out and said it explicitly. And there was the chance that he didn’t know what he was saying. But it was still a reminder: he loved her. And that was going to make it very, very hard for her to get over how she felt about him.

She exited the car and made her way towards the barn. The portal’s golden column extended endlessly into the bleak morning sky; she hoped that, even if it didn’t _look_ like a regular portal, Hook’s theory about other similarities would prove correct.

For a moment, she was tempted to go back in time and _not_ kiss him. But that would be selfish. She’d do the right thing. She was, after all, the Savior.

As she reached for the barn door, it burst open, and she fell to the ground unceremoniously as the damn thing began pulling her in. She registered that Hook was shouting her name, and she hoped he was staying in the car; this portal was relentless, and it would suck him in, too if he tried to step foot outside his vehicle. As she was dragged closer and closer to the portal, she shut her eyes tightly and tried to focus. _One minute from now, one minute from now, one minute from now, just reappear in the barn, one minute from now_ … And it engulfed her.

The sensation of falling through a portal wasn’t unfamiliar, but it was still unnerving. She was floating too much to feel as if she were truly in freefall, but she knew she was moving at a relatively high speed nonetheless. She could feel the subtle, sickening change in direction, as she began to fall upwards, towards her destination.

Then the floating sensation disappeared entirely—now she was just being tossed upwards. But that feeling lasted briefly; soon after, she landed with a hard thud on the dirt floor of the barn she’d just entered.

“Swan?” Hook was standing right in front of her; he reached down to offer her his hand. “Are you all right?”

“I told you to stay behind,” she said irritably, but she took his hand and he pulled her up. “You could have been sucked in.”

“Swan, I came up here after the portal closed. It was closed for about a minute, and then it opened again and you came back out.”

“Oh,” she said stupidly. “So it worked.”

“I suppose,” he said. “But you’d have to tell me. Was there anything in between jumping in and popping back out?”

“Nope,” she confirmed. “So I guess that’s it.”

“Seems like it,” he agreed. He was still holding her hand. “Ready to rejoin your family?”

“Let’s go,” she agreed, untangling her fingers from his. The look of disappointment on his face was noticeable, but he didn’t comment.

While he drove, she texted Henry and David to update them and figure out what was on tap for the rest of the day. Henry and Regina planned to spend the day shopping and setting up his bedroom; the new curse had maintained the illusion that Mayor Mills was childless, so her house lacked a bedroom fit for a twelve-year-old boy. David and Mary Margaret planned to spend the rest of the day at home, resting and adjusting to life with their new baby. They were looking to host a party at Granny’s later in the week to celebrate the defeat of Zelena, and to introduce the “kingdom” to the new prince.

There was one wrinkle in everyone’s plans. “David said that the missing people have all reappeared and we need to file reports.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Hook said. “I’ll drop you off at your apartment and head back to the station.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “There’s no reason you should handle the paperwork alone.”

“To be honest, love, as much as I enjoy spending time with you, I’m dealing with a bit of emotional whiplash at the moment. I don’t mean to cause you pain by telling you this. But perhaps, for the time being, I need some space to adjust to our situation. And perhaps that will give you the time you need to sort out how you feel about me.” He pulled up to her apartment building and stared at her. He looked sad and embarrassed, as if he didn’t feel as if space was an appropriate thing for him to ask for.

And it _wasn’t_ inappropriate; in his shoes, she’d either be demanding an explanation or insisting on spending time apart so they could figure out what they wanted. But this was the man who’d insisted that he would win her heart, and that he would think about her every single day. She was surprised to find she was actually offended that he was turning down an opportunity to spend time with her, even given the situation.

But wasn’t this what she wanted? If this was just an infatuation, fueled by complacency and hormones, then after some time and some space, they could both move on and go back to being just friends. Or whatever they were before he’d decided to pursue her romantically back in Neverland.

Now, he had his head bent shamefully, as if he regretted every word he’d just said. Unable to stand another second of the tension, she got out of the car without another word and practically ran into her apartment.


	15. The Heart-to-Heart

The next few days were stressful. On Monday, Emma showed up at the station, figuring that since David was taking some time off because of the baby, it was even more essential that both deputies pulled their weight. Hook had started quite a bit of paperwork on Sunday, but only Ruby and Ashley had come by at that point, and the other missing people arrived on Monday.

It seemed as if getting close to the town line had, due to Zelena’s influence, resulted in people turning into flying monkeys. Much to Hook’s dismay, the creature he had beaten the living daylights out of had been his old first mate Smee; Emma suppressed a laugh at the horror on the pirate’s face when he found out. She blushed furiously when he looked at her crossly; for a moment, she’d forgotten that they were only spending time together in a professional capacity.

When he left to get lunch at Granny’s and came back without picking up anything for her, she tried not to feel too disappointed. She _did_ feel like that was a little rude—even if she were just a colleague, it would have been polite to ask if she wanted anything—but it was probably for the best if they both overcorrected a little.

That evening, she had dinner with Henry and Regina, who was practically glowing after so much time spent with her son. Henry gushed for a bit about how cool his room was going to look when he was finished with it, and Regina offered some suggestions for how to divide time between the two households. Emma tried to be as supportive and flexible as possible; after all, Regina had just suffered an entire year without Henry, and it wasn’t as if he were leaving Emma forever. They ended up agreeing on Henry alternating weeks with each mother. They still needed to figure out when the switch would occur, but Emma perked up a bit at the thought of having Henry back at home the following week. But when she came home to a dark and empty apartment, she uncharacteristically broke down in tears.

The next day at the station was just as excruciating as the previous one. In the afternoon, after they’d finished up most of the paperwork that needed to be taken care of post-Zelena, Hook left to patrol. She spent the rest of her shift answering calls from residents who just wanted reassurance that the Wicked Witch was really dead, and surfing ads for apartments in Boston.

That evening, she visited her parents, alternating between helping with the party plans and holding her baby brother, whose name was still being withheld. When her mother made an offhand comment about how lucky she felt that both of her children had been returned to her, Emma just smiled and didn’t say anything. When she returned to her apartment, she opened her bottle of emergency vodka she kept in the freezer.

On Wednesday, she told Hook that she’d handle patrol. Instead, she drove to the town line and parked for a few hours, staring at the “Leaving Storybrooke” sign. Eventually, her stomach signalled to her that she needed to get lunch; she stopped by Granny’s for coffee and a donut before driving aimlessly through town. She ended up in the woods, where she continued on foot. When she reached the wishing well, she leaned over and stared into the depths, wondering why she felt so lost in the first place.

She had dinner with Henry that night at Granny’s. After listening to him talk about how much better school was now that the curse was broken, and how his room at Regina’s was coming along, she found herself blurting out a question.

“How would you feel if I moved back to Boston?”

“Why would you—wait, not New York?”

“Maybe if you were coming with me,” she admitted. “But if you’re staying here, then I’d like to be a little closer. It’s just not feasible for me to do bail bonds up in rural Maine.”

“But why would you leave? Storybrooke is your home.”

“I—I know,” she admitted. “That’s why I wouldn’t want to move that far away, so I could come up to visit often.”

He stared at her for several long moments; she wanted to take another bite of her pasta, but she felt frozen in place. “Is this a decision you’ve made for sure?” he finally asked.

“No,” she said firmly. “It’s just something I’ve been thinking about.”

“Okay,” he said, and he returned to his food and more mundane conversational topics.

Soon after she returned home after dropping Henry off at Regina’s, there was a knock at the door. It was Mary Margaret, alone, without David or the baby.

“Is everything okay?” Emma asked nervously.

“The baby’s fine,” Mary Margaret replied, not exactly answering the question. “I was wondering if you had time to talk.”

“Sure.” She gestured to the couch; her mother sat down, and she joined her. “What’s going on?”

“Over the past few days, four different people have talked to me—all independently—because they’re concerned about you,” she said gently. “So I’d like to talk to you and see what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she replied, exasperated. “Wait—four people?”

“David, Hook, Henry, and—a little surprisingly—Regina.”

She groaned. “I’m tired of everyone talking about me behind my back!”

“Well, consider this me talking directly to you about my concerns, then, since that’s apparently what you want,” her mother replied evenly. “Listen, Emma. I know our relationship has been awkward since the first curse broke. But even if I’m your mother who’s the same age as you are, I’m _also_ still your friend. And you clearly need to talk to someone about what’s going on.”

Emma opened her mouth to argue—she didn’t really _need_ to talk to anyone, she didn’t _need_ half the town gossiping about her, she didn’t _need_ to have a heart-to-heart to make any decisions. But she was exhausted emotionally. And Mary Margaret’s expression made it clear: she wasn’t leaving until Emma opened up.

Suddenly, Emma could hear the thin, insistent cry of her baby brother upstairs, but to her surprise, Mary Margaret just shook her head. “David’s on baby duty right now,” she said, “so I’ve got all night.” She raised an eyebrow at Emma.

“I don’t know where to begin,” she said nervously.

“I’d either start with what’s going on with Hook, or the whole moving to Boston thing,” Mary Margaret suggested. “Although I suspect they’re not entirely distinct issues.”

Emma let out a sigh. “I just feel like I need to have time and space to process everything,” she said. “What happened on Saturday was horrible—and there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening.”

“Emma, everyone feels that way,” Mary Margaret insisted. “Do you think I was lying in that hospital bed, sobbing because I felt like everyone _else_ had failed?” She shook her head. “All I could think of was that I was incapable of bringing a child into this world without practically handing him or her over to dangerous or dark forces. I couldn’t even cast the dark curse properly—if I had, we would have been able to stop Zelena immediately instead of spending the last few weeks of my pregnancy welcoming her into our home and giving her access to our lives and your brother.”

“Mary Margaret, you didn’t know,” Emma said. “You were doing the best you could.”

“And so were you,” her mother replied. “You didn’t know Zelena was trying to take your magic.” She frowned. “I still don’t know exactly how it happened, if you’re okay with telling me.”

Emma sighed. “Zelena … cursed Hook’s lips so that if we kissed, I’d lose my magic.”

 _“Oh,”_ Mary Margaret replied. _“That_ was it?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Yes, okay? It was something _that_ stupid and easily avoided.”

“No, that’s not how I meant it,” her mother replied. “She was taking advantage of the fact that we were all cursed. We all knew how Hook felt about you; if we hadn’t been cursed, we would have known to warn you.”

“Well, you _were_ cursed, and I kissed the asshole anyway,” Emma replied glumly. “And to make matters worse, Henry and I were the only ones who even knew we were in the middle of a crisis! Although,” she realized, “Hook knew, too. Enough happened that we had to let him in on a lot of what was going on.”

“Right, the flying monkey fiasco,” Mary Margaret said. “I never heard the end of that.”

“Yeah. My point is, there’s a witch flying around Storybrooke, trying to harm my family, and what am I doing? Making out on the couch like a teenager!”

“So?”

“So, I’m the Savior!” She flopped back against the couch. “I don’t get a day off.”

“You don’t deserve love or happiness?”

“I don’t love Hook,” she said softly, willing it to be true.

“That’s … debatable,” her mother replied. “But my point isn’t that you love him. It’s that you’re blaming yourself for your capacity _and_ your need for love and affection.”

“If I hadn’t let myself get involved with Hook, Zelena wouldn’t have taken my brother. It’s as simple as that.”

Mary Margaret didn’t say anything for a few long moments, and Emma wondered if she’d managed to end the conversation. But finally Mary Margaret said, “So the point of moving to Boston is to get some space from Hook?”

“Yeah,” she replied, glad that her mother understood that. “Right now, everything’s really broken between us. It’s weird for us to be just friends again, so I think if I’m gone for a while, it’ll give both of us time to move on.”

“Well, I think that’s a noble motivation, but I doubt that’ll change how Hook feels,” Mary Margaret said. “We all spent a year in the Enchanted Forest, entirely convinced we would _never_ see you or Henry again. That didn’t change his feelings one bit. And you seem to be forgetting that this is the man who spent hundreds of years avenging the death of his first love.”

“Then it’ll give _me_ time,” she replied. “And if it’s that difficult, maybe I just won’t come back for more than temporary visits to see you all and Henry.”

“So let’s say you move on from Hook,” her mother posited. “What happens when you meet someone else?”

“I … I just won’t,” she replied, wincing at her reply. “I mean, my last boyfriend turned out to be a flying monkey.”

“Well—wait, really?”

“Yeah, we dated for eight months in New York, and he proposed to me the night Storybrooke came back. I guess Zelena wanted to keep me in New York for as long as possible.”

“That’s a little bit ridiculous.”

“It was.”

“Anyway,” her mother said, “so what you’re saying to me is that you’re just going to live the rest of your life without any love.”

“Well, it sounds stupid when you put it that way,” Emma said. “It’s just that I can’t open myself to that kind of risk. I can’t compromise myself like I did this week.”

“Do you remember when we were trying to get back to Storybrooke from the Enchanted Forest?” Mary Margaret asked. “When Cora and Hook opened the portal, I mean.”

“I remember.” How could she forget?

“Do you remember what happened when Cora tried to take my heart?”

“She didn’t,” Emma said. “I pushed you out of the way.”

“Do you really not see where I’m going with this?”

“No, not really,” she admitted.

“Cora wasn’t able to take your heart. Do you recall what you said to her?”

“I told her …” she swallowed thickly, “I told her love wasn’t weakness. That it was strength.”

“And you were _right,_ Emma,” Mary Margaret said. “Love is what saved you and defeated Cora. Love is a force of _good_ in this world, and it does not make you weak. There’s a reason why True Love’s Kiss can break any curse.”

“Henry and Regina broke the curse,” she said insistently, trying not to think about how initially, she’d thought she’d done it.

“I know,” her mother said. “But you’ve broken the curse, too. You know how powerful True Love’s Kiss is. There’s a reason for that.” She shifted and took Emma’s hand. “I spent a long time on the run from Regina when I was a young woman. Could I have survived on my own? I thought so. I still think so. But I made friends along the way—friends who helped me. And sometimes, those friendships put me at a greater risk.”

“When I met your father, the last thing I wanted was to fall in love with him. I wanted to run away, to escape to another realm, and just be _free_ from Regina. But my love for David wasn’t a choice, and it made my life so much more difficult at the start. Loving him—fighting for our love—meant risking my life. It meant making sacrifices. But we always found each other again, and our partnership made each of us stronger. We brought down Regina and King George, and took back the kingdom together. Every day, my life is easier because I know I have his support.”

“No matter what happens, you will _always_ have my love, your father’s love, Henry’s love, and now, your brother’s love. We will be here to help you, support you, and protect you, whether you live here in Storybrooke, or back in Boston. But your family does not need to be limited to us.” She smiled. “I’m not asking you to give Hook a chance. I’m asking you to give _yourself_ a chance.”

She reached up and rubbed Emma’s shoulder. “I need to go. I’m still unbelievably exhausted from giving birth.”

“Yeah, it’s a killer,” Emma said softly, reaching up and touching her mother’s hand.

“And don’t worry,” Mary Margaret said as she stood and made her way to the door. “I won’t tell anyone what we talked about.”

Once she was alone, Emma wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She felt as if her skin were crawling, her thoughts were swirling, and her head were spinning. She tried to take a bath, but she couldn’t focus on the magazine she’d selected. She wrapped herself in her bathrobe and tried watching _Friends,_ but every episode kept reminding her of all the things she was trying not to think about.

Her eyes kept flicking to her phone screen; she felt too wired to sleep, and it was getting later and later in the evening. At this point, she was going to be exhausted at work tomorrow.

Work. With Hook. Where they would awkwardly nod at each other in greeting, and then one of them would leave for patrol and they wouldn’t see each other until the end of the day, when they’d awkwardly and silently nod at each other to say goodbye.

The tears came.

She woke up on the couch at six, still in her bathrobe with her hair wrapped in a towel, and almost automatically picked up her phone.

_I’m not feeling well. Won’t be coming in today. Sorry._

It wasn’t exactly a lie. She felt terrible. She couldn’t face him again. She changed into pajamas before crawling into her bed, hoping that she could go back to sleep. As she finally started to doze around seven, her phone beeped, indicating a reply text.

_I understand. Feel better._

She wasn’t sure if she was relieved that he’d sent such a brief message in reply, or if she was disappointed that he wasn’t calling her out on the real reason she wasn’t coming in.

She slept poorly for another couple of hours before finally giving up. She ate dry cereal for breakfast; she hadn’t been grocery shopping since before Neal’s death, and there weren’t many other non-perishables in the house to choose from. She flopped back on the couch and alternated between watching reruns of _Frasier_ and watching _SportsCenter_ while she painted her nails.

Shortly before lunch, Henry texted her. _Can you see if Mary Margaret and David have the storybook? If yes, bring it to the party tonight please?_

She groaned. She’d forgotten about the party. She called David. “Hey, this is a weird longshot, with the curse stuff that’s happened, but do you guys have Henry’s storybook?”

“Oh, good question,” he said. She could hear him muffle the phone and address Mary Margaret. “Your mother hasn’t seen it,” he said, picking the phone up again. “But we’ll look for it. If we find it, we’ll bring it tonight.”

“About that,” she said, nervously picking at the hem of her tee-shirt. “How upset would you guys be if I couldn’t make it?”

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t you come tonight?”

“I wasn’t feeling well last night, and I’m home sick today, so … well, it just doesn’t seem okay for me to come out and have fun tonight if I couldn’t go to work,” she said quickly.

“Emma, this isn’t just a regular party,” David said seriously. “We’re presenting your brother to the public and announcing his name. Will you at least come for that? It’s something we want to do as a family.”

“Okay, I’ll come for that,” she said, cradling her head in her free hand.

“Good,” he said, sounding satisfied. “Why don’t we drive you, since you’re not feeling well? We’ll pick you up at six.”

“Yeah, okay. See you then.” She hung up, irritated that she hadn’t been more persuasive.

When her parents knocked on the door at six, she’d gone through great lengths to appear overtired (which she was) and sick (which she wasn’t—at least not physically). She’d showered and let her hair air-dry, and she hadn’t bothered with any make-up. Maybe Hook would believe she’d been sick, and he wouldn’t be upset that she’d stayed home.

Or—of course—the pirate would read her like an open book and know exactly how not-really-sick she was.

He wasn’t there when they arrived at Granny’s. Henry was, and he was excited to see that Mary Margaret had indeed found the storybook (“In my closet, right where I found it the first time—isn’t that strange?”). As he slid into a booth and began flipping through it, Regina took Emma aside.

“I just wanted to—are you feeling okay?” Regina asked.

“I’m feeling a little under the weather, that’s all,” Emma said quickly. “Not contagious, just … fatigued, you know?”

“I see,” Regina replied, disinterested. “Anyway, I was thinking that maybe the end of my week with Henry would be this Sunday; I can drop him off after dinner. Is that all right with you?”

“Of course,” Emma replied. On the one hand, she wondered if Henry might be better off waiting indefinitely to come stay with her, since she was in such a rough place emotionally. But on the other hand, she missed her son, and having Henry around—having someone else to look after and worry about—would be nice.

Robin stepped over at that point, and Regina said, “I’ll give you a call on Sunday with a more specific time,” before turning to him.

After that, Emma found herself constantly being sucked into conversations with the townsfolk. Ashley and Ruby were delighted to see her, and regaled her with harrowing tales of their weeks spent as flying monkeys. She managed to excuse herself from that conversation, only to be enthusiastically greeted by Aurora, who had also been a flying monkey, who introduced her to Philip and showed off her baby bump. Emma felt herself freeze up as Aurora mentioned how funny it was to hear that Hook had become an ally instead of an enemy, but mercifully, Archie had arrived and pulled her aside to chat.

Soon after, there was a gently tap on her shoulder; she tensed up, thinking it might be Hook, but it was Belle, who’d just arrived with Gold. “Could we talk for a moment?” Belle asked.

They moved towards the hallway that led up to the inn. “How are you and Gold doing?” Emma asked.

“We’re relieved to be reunited,” Belle said, smiling gently and blushing. But her expression grew more somber after that. “He’s struggling a lot over Neal’s death,” she admitted. “He thought you should know what really happened, but he wasn’t up for telling you himself.”

“Oh,” she replied. She felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her.

“Back in the Enchanted Forest, Zelena tricked Neal into resurrecting Rumple, at the cost of his life. Rumple had to choose between grabbing his dagger, or magically absorbing Neal to keep him alive.”

“He chose Neal,” Emma whispered.

“Yes,” Belle confirmed. “It sort of … it sort of made Rumple go mad. Once we came back to Storybrooke, Neal managed to separate himself from Rumple so he could find you and warn you. His death was the result of the magic finally taking his toll.”

Emma wiped away tears, and she felt Belle touch her shoulder gently. Neal had known the whole time that he was going to die. He’d lain there and patiently talked to them, all the while knowing that he’d never see them again. She didn’t know whether or not she was grateful that he’d spared them the truth, or angry that he hadn’t given them the chance to say goodbye. She finally settled on (mostly) the former. “Please tell him thanks,” she said, wiping her nose on her shirt sleeve. “And thank you for telling me.” Belle smiled sadly and supportively before walking back over to Gold, who was looking over at the two of them with a melancholy expression.

She quietly asked Henry to get her a hot chocolate before sliding into the booth he’d been sitting in, and made the decision not to get up for the rest of the party. Her parents had witnessed the exchange between her and Belle, and as soon as Henry brought over her hot chocolate, they got everyone’s attention.

“We’d like to thank you all for coming out tonight,” David said brightly. “It’s been a confusing few days for everyone, I’m sure!” The assembled townsfolk chuckled. “We’re excited to be hosting this event tonight, in honor of our two children.” He smiled at Emma before looking back over the crowd. She clutched a napkin, and when she felt like people weren’t staring at her anymore, she rubbed at her eyes with it.

“As many of you already know, we returned to this realm in order to find our daughter and stop the Wicked Witch, Zelena. Unfortunately, the witch interfered with the spell, and without Emma and Henry’s selflessness and bravery, we wouldn’t have regained our memories in time to stop her. To Emma and Henry!” He raised his glass.

“To Emma and Henry!” She blushed furiously and resisted the urge to slouch further into her seat. Henry stood and made an exaggerated bow before retaking his seat.

“And now, as is the custom in our land, we would like to formally present to you your new prince.”

Mary Margaret stood, holding the baby, who at this point seemed a little irritated that he was still surrounded by so much loud noise. “We have chosen to name our son after someone we didn’t get to know very well, but who fought alongside us selflessly, and who died in the process of helping us defeat Zelena. People of Storybrooke, we present to you: Prince Neal.”

Emma smiled tentatively and tears rose up again; Henry reached over and squeezed her hand. Her brother’s name was going to take some getting used to. She just hoped her parents hadn’t named their son after Neal to make _her_ feel better.

“You okay, Mom?” Henry asked.

“Uh, yeah, kid,” she replied. “I’m just a little emotional, that’s all. Still not feeling well.” She knew she’d have to tell him the story behind Neal’s death at some point, but … not tonight.

“Maybe you should go home,” Henry said.

“I’d like to, to be honest,” she said, privately acknowledging that she was understating the truth. “But your grandparents drove me and I don’t think I’m up for walking.”

“I’ll drive you.” Her head snapped to the right; Hook was standing near the booth, a glass of water in his hand. When had he arrived?

“It’s okay,” she said quickly, turning away. Right now, with her emotions so out of control, the last thing she wanted was for him to read her, like he always did. “I don’t want anyone to miss the rest of the party.”

“My offer is sincere,” he replied. “I can always return afterwards; it’s not a burden.”

“Come on, Mom,” Henry said; he seemed confused about her reluctance. “No one’ll be mad. I’ll tell Grandma and Gramps for you.”

“I …” But it was clear that the decision had been made for her. And given how badly she hadn’t wanted to attend the party in the first place, she should have felt more relieved that she could finally leave. “Okay. Thanks, Henry.”

She stayed a few paces behind Hook, following him to his car. She walked around to the passenger side door as he unlocked the vehicle; they momentarily looked up at each other before she immediately averted her eyes. They each slid into their respective seats.

“I’m okay to drive,” he said as he started the engine.

“What?” She was so startled by the fact that he was speaking to her, she couldn’t figure out what he was talking about.

“I haven’t had anything to drink,” he clarified. “Since the curse, I haven’t been drinking.”

“Oh,” she said. She’d forgotten Hook’s propensity for drinking rum, and she’d grown used to the always-sober Dylan. Perhaps he had as well.

There was nothing more to say on the subject, though, and the rest of the ten minute drive to her apartment was silent. The silence wasn’t cold, nor was it companionable. It was electric, and by the time Hook pulled up in front of the apartment, her skin was crawling all over.

“Shall I see you tomorrow?” he asked softly as she undid her seatbelt.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” he said, sounding unsure. “Good night, Swan.”

“Good night. Thank you for the ride.” She slammed the car door, much more forcefully than she’d intended to. She cringed—and she saw him cringe—but after taking a moment to remember that she couldn’t rewind time and shut the door more softly, she turned and walked into her building.

Once inside her apartment, she leaned against the door. What was even _happening?_ Why was everything suddenly so hard?

Fortunately, her emotional exhaustion had finally converted to physical exhaustion, and she was able to sleep.

The next morning, she woke up feeling heartsick and guilty. For a moment, she wasn’t sure why she felt guilt. But when she looked and saw that it was already ten in the morning on a Friday, she remembered that she was feeling guilty for taking _another_ day off to avoid Hook.

She tried to distract herself, hoping that her head would clear. She cleaned Henry’s pigsty of a room, but she still couldn’t relax. She planned meals for next week, when Henry would be home, and spent an hour in the grocery store (the fridge and cabinets were practically empty thanks to two weeks without replenishing them). As the afternoon wore on, and she finished reorganizing the DVD collection, she finally gave up.

She was going to have to sit down and _think,_ or else the answers were never coming to her. She plopped down on the couch, cradled her head in her hands, and _thought._

She had to stop running away from the swirl of feelings in her head and in her heart. She needed to figure out what she wanted—what she _really_ wanted—and deal with it.

She didn’t really want to leave Storybrooke. It wasn’t just because she felt responsible as the Savior; she _wanted_ to spend time with her parents. She wanted to get to know her little brother and help raise him. And she wanted to be there for Henry. She couldn’t just forget the life Regina had given them; she was his _mother,_ and she would not willingly give up joint custody of her son.

The reason to leave Storybrooke wasn’t her family. It was Hook. If she had to be around him all the time, she’d be in pain. She’d feel like _this._ Even if she could move on, he wouldn’t—she _knew_ he wouldn’t—and her heart would always be broken knowing that his was as well.

And what if she _couldn’t_ move on? What if she couldn’t stop thinking about how incredible that one day in the apartment had been, when they did nothing except kiss and talk and laugh and relax?

What if they _had_ broken the curse? Screw what Regina and Henry believed; Emma knew what it felt like to break a curse with True Love’s Kiss, and she knew what had happened that morning.

What if she _wanted_ to see him every day? What if she _wanted_ to kiss him? What if she _wanted_ him to get along with her parents? Or her son? What if she _wanted_ to be able to talk to him and laugh with him and enjoy his company?

What if love _was_ strength, and the reason she had been such a mess since the curse broke was that she had been cutting herself off from the people she loved? _All_ the people she loved?

Her hands shook as she reached for her phone. _Please come over. I need to see you. I’m sorry._


	16. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains sexual content. If you're not comfortable with that, I recommend skipping from the moment where Emma dead-bolts the door until the next line break in the chapter. If you are comfortable with that, then GOOD NEWS: don't skip anything.

She was more than a little stressed and worried when she didn’t get a reply text, given how slow the sheriff’s station typically was towards the end of the day on a Friday. She had spent the afternoon obsessing about her own feelings, without stopping for a moment to consider that maybe his feelings had changed. After all, she’d been aggressively avoiding him after telling him she was falling for him. Maybe he was done putting up with her.

But shortly after five o’clock, there was a tentative knock on the door. Her heart leapt hopefully in her chest—he’d come—even though she knew that he might not be here to forgive her. She shakily opened the door.

He looked entirely terrified; he immediately looked her over, as if to assess for any signs of physical harm. “Er, I got your message,” he said quietly and awkwardly.

“You can come in,” she said hesitantly; over the past few weeks, he’d never waited outside for an invitation, and it was strange that he was waiting now. He nodded and then stepped inside, but made no move to remove his coat or shoes, or make himself at home as he normally did. He stood tensely, and she realized that he was as nervous as he looked. And it meant she was going to have to be the one to do the talking.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, closing the door and moving to stand in front of him. “I felt so helpless when Zelena took my brother … I managed to convince myself that it was my fault for kissing you and losing my magic.”

“Swan, you had no idea,” he reminded her gently.

“No, I know. But I was stuck in this mindset, you know? And I just kept spiralling, thinking that the only way to protect myself and my family was to stop …” She couldn’t find the words.

“To stop caring for anyone,” he offered, and she nodded. “That certainly does clarify the past few days. Thank you for telling me.”

“I just …” she reached out and touched his arm. “I was _wrong._ And these past few days are proof of that. I’ve been a complete wreck every second. Can you … can you forgive me?”

He was silent for a few moments, and entirely stiff, with his eyes firmly locked on the floor. Her stomach knotted up—it was too late. She’d hurt him too much. He wasn’t going to forgive her.

He finally spoke. “I know that this is difficult for you to discuss. But I’m afraid that I need some additional clarification. Are you apologizing for avoiding me? Or just for not explaining why?”

“Hook,” she said. “Killian. I’m trying to tell you that I love you, and that I’m not going to run from you anymore. If—if that’s something you want,” she added.

He continued to stand still for a moment, processing her admission, before he wrapped his arms around her. She felt shaky with relief. “I’m glad to hear you say that, Swan.”

“Are you surprised?”

“That you’ve decided not to avoid me anymore? Perhaps.”

“What about … you know … that I love you?”

He laughed. “Darling, you may recall that you’ve already admitted your feelings to me, more than once, just not in those exact words.” He pulled back, and he was grinning; she couldn’t help but grin back.

“Do … do _you_ want to use those exact words?” she asked shyly.

He chuckled. “Are you truly unaware of my feelings for you?”

She shook her head. “No. That morning, that was True Love’s Kiss,” she admitted.

“Aye,” he said, his face turning serious. “I was quite confused when Regina and Henry stampeded in, saying they’d broken the curse.”

“I suppose they could have occurred simultaneously,” she said. “If it’s okay with you, though—”

“It would be best for us to maintain the story that Regina and Henry broke the curse alone,” he said. “I agree.” He leaned in and kissed her gently.

“But I still want to hear you say it,” she said quietly.

“That I love you?” he asked. Her heart pounded. “That I adore you? That not a day went by that I didn’t desperately miss you when we were apart this past year? That being brought back to myself with a kiss of true love from you was the single greatest moment of my life?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, and he kissed her deeply.

“Henry’s with Regina, right?” he asked.

“Yep.”

Just to be sure, she dead-bolted the door.

When she turned back around, Hook had shucked off his jacket and was in the process of kicking off his shoes. Without pausing, she took his hand and led him behind the room divider that separated her bedroom alcove from the rest of the apartment. She made quick work of his waistcoat and shirt (no small feat; his sleeve briefly caught on his hook), and once she had, he pulled off her sweater and the thin tank top she wore underneath.

“Well, this looks a bit familiar,” he murmured before letting her take his undershirt off.

“No interruptions this time,” she said firmly as she undid his belt buckle and the fly of his jeans. As she pulled the jeans down, she could see his erection pushing at the fabric of his boxers.

“Hold on,” he said, leaning on the bed while he removed his socks and then finished sliding off his pants. “Now, this seems a bit uneven.” She grinned and leaned back on the bed while he undid her jeans and pulled them off her. “It’s times like this that I’m grateful for the curse,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Without the knowledge that I possessed as a cursed resident of Storybrooke, I doubt I’d be quite as adept as I am at undoing a fly with one hand.” He moved to sit next to her on the bed.

“Speaking of which,” she began, “can I ask you a very personal question?”

“Of course.”

“Do you … do you prefer to wear your hook for … uh …”

“While making love?”

“Yeah—sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He sat up against the headboard thoughtfully. “To be honest, and I’m embarrassed to admit this, since I lost my hand, I’ve mostly fucked prostitutes or licentious bar wenches. Those occasions weren’t exactly romantic, and given my reputation, the hook was pretty much expected.”

“I see,” she said awkwardly. “I mean, I don’t want you to think I mind either way,” she continued. “Maybe I’ll eventually have a preference.” He smiled at that—at the reminder that there was a future for them.

“Given that for the first time in a couple of hundred years, I’m about to bed a woman I love deeply, I suppose I could strip down completely, if you’d like.” He winked, but he was holding something back.

He was afraid. She’d never seen him without his brace on, except when he was in the hospital—when his arm had been wrapped and covered.

She moved towards him, kissing him softly as she reached down and unlocked the hook from the brace. Setting it aside on her nightstand, she began to kiss his neck as she loosened the straps on the brace. She felt his hesitation as she slid it off and placed it next to his hook. “It’s okay, Killian,” she said, caressing the end of his left wrist. The skin felt much as she expected; there were regions of smooth skin and some areas with bumps and puckers. It was simply scarred skin, something she’d encountered countless times, including on her own body.

It was as if she’d scaled a particular wall of his, and now that she was over it, he was as well; his body relaxed significantly, and with little warning, he shook her hand free and wrapped both arms around her, pulling her towards him tightly and kissing down her neck. Using his left arm to hold the fabric of her bra in place against her back, he deftly unhooked it with his right hand, and then pulled back in order to remove it and examine his handiwork.

She felt herself blush; she expected that in the dim light coming from the living room, he could see the flush extend from her face all the way down to her newly bared breasts. As exciting as the first time could be with someone she cared about, it was also nerve-wracking; she preferred the intimacy and lack of self-consciousness that came with familiarity. Knowing that he was staring at her naked chest for the first time made her feel incredibly insecure: there was a zit that she’d absentmindedly picked at in the shower, and her breasts were not as perky as they’d been when she was in her twenties. He didn’t seem to mind, of course; he reached out and stroked each breast, one at a time, and before she could ruin the mood by making a self-deprecating comment, he leaned forward to take one breast in his mouth while he caressed the other.

“Well, I guess we’re diving right in,” she murmured, and he responded by flicking her nipple with his tongue. He pushed her onto her back and continued his ministrations, dividing his time between each breast. She could feel his erection pressing gently into her leg, but it just made her heart beat faster. He was alternating between light licks and caresses, and harder tweaks, and she was starting to feel her arousal building.

“I don’t mean to ruin the mood,” he said after a few minutes, “but we should probably talk about, ah, contraceptives.”

She had to take a few moments to catch her breath. “I got an IUD recently, and I was screened for STDs before I got it.”

He squeezed a breast thoughtfully. “So should I be concerned about any diseases you may have contracted from the flying monkey?”

She laughed. “Walsh and I always used condoms before, and we never had a chance to have sex after I got the IUD. So I should be free of monkey diseases.” She frowned, recalling Hook’s earlier comment about fucking prostitutes. “What about you? Did you pick anything up in the Enchanted Forest? Because I don’t have any condoms here.”

“There aren’t any such diseases in the Enchanted Forest,” he said. “But it so happens that two weeks ago, I had a physical exam, and I’m entirely healthy. And that’s _not_ a cursed memory—that did actually happen.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “So we don’t need to use condoms.”

He grinned. “I suppose not.” He moved down a little on the bed. “Perhaps it’s time we removed the rest of your attire, love.” He stroked her through her panties, and she shivered with anticipation—it was still a little weird that it was _Hook_ who was caressing her, but at the same time, she was excited that it was him. “You certainly _feel_ ready.”

She lifted her hips for him so he could grab her underwear by the waistband and pull it off. He threw them to the floor and then pushed her legs apart. She had forgotten how long it had been since she’d gotten a wax (it hadn’t been a priority, and besides—who in Storybrooke ran _that_ business?), and she had to resist the urge to bring her knees together and apologize. But he didn’t seem to notice anything amiss, and after examining her for a few seconds, he reached down and began playing with her folds.

As he did so, he shifted so that he was lying on his side beside her, propping himself up on his arm and leaning in to kiss her lazily. After a few minutes, she could feel her anxiety begin to subside and the pleasure begin to build up again. Soon, she was bucking her hips as he inserted a couple of fingers, all the while keeping his thumb dancing gently around her clit.

When she came, she came as quietly as possible, knowing that her parents were probably home. But she couldn’t control her body as she arched her back and clutched at her comforter. “Beautiful,” he whispered. “You’re beautiful.”

“That was … amazing,” she said, still panting. “If you give me a minute, I can return the favor.” A minute was an underestimation; she would likely need several.

“If it’s all right with you, Swan,” he said hesitantly, “I’d prefer to make love to you. I’m sure you’re very capable with your hands, but—”

“But there will be plenty of other occasions for that,” she finished for him, and he smiled. “Besides, I’d love for you to fuck me.”

He sighed. “While I admit that I find it extremely arousing to hear you say that, I’d like to think of it in more romantic terms.”

“Then I’d love for you to lovingly fuck me,” she teased. She sat up and reached for his boxers. “Come on, it’s my turn. Let’s see the goods.”

He chuckled, but she could see him blush as he lifted his hips. She shimmied the shorts off of him, and his erection sprang free. She smiled appreciatively; he was definitely big, but not so big that she was going to have trouble adjusting to him. “Me on top, or you?” she asked as she reached out and grasped him gently. “I don’t have a preference.”

He gasped and then moaned softly. “Me,” he said. “Gods, me.” He sat up to kiss her, and then slowly pushed her back on the bed. Her legs trembled slightly as she spread them—she was actually, for _real_ about to have sex with _Hook_ —but as he settled between them, she reached down to guide him.

He grunted as he began to push into her, and then he thrust in and out slowly, more deeply each time. When he was finally buried to the hilt, he let out a sigh. “Love, tell me this is real,” he whispered.

“It is,” she replied. “But if you don’t start moving, I swear—”

Before she could finish her sentence, he followed her instructions, and she moaned. He paused for a moment to nudge her a little into a slightly better position, and she wrapped her legs around his waist to improve the angle further. When he began to thrust again, he was perfectly positioned to rub gently against her clit.

It was significantly difficult for her to keep quiet; her hormone-addled brain even questioned how much it would _really_ bother her if her parents could hear what she was doing. Her initial appraisal of his size had been spot-on; she felt deliciously full, but she didn’t feel any discomfort. She tried to keep the desperate whine coming from her throat to a minimum.

After a few minutes, it became clear that even if _she_ could stay quiet, Hook would end up giving them away anyway. The man was grunting loudly, and not bothering to whisper his words of encouragement. “Oh gods, love,” he groaned loudly. “I’m not going to last very long if I go any faster.”

“Shh!” she finally said. “My parents are upstairs.”

“So?” he asked, emphasizing his question with a thrust of his hips, eliciting a lusty grunt from her. “They’d probably be disappointed—” _Thrust._ “—if we _weren’t_ doing this.”

“God, just fuck me,” she said, not matching his volume, but no longer trying to stay as quiet.

“As you wish,” he said, panting and picking up the pace. His movements were hitting a particularly satisfying spot, and she let out a low, loud moan that was punctuated with each of his thrusts.

“Gods, Emma. Emma, I’m coming. I’m coming, love.” His actions became more erratic, and he grunted and gasped in her ear; she felt him throbbing inside of her for several long moments, and then he finally relaxed on top of her.

She stroked his back as she regained her breath. “How’re you doing, Captain?” Her words were slightly slurred.

He laughed. “I’ve never been better,” he said happily. He gently rolled to the side, pulling out. “How was that, love?”

What she wanted to say was, “No amount of your innuendo could have prepared me for that level of satisfaction,” but it came out: “Ummmmm, fucking awesome.”

“Truly?” he asked. “I don’t enjoy calling attention to my failings, but you didn’t seem to peak.”

“Never have from sex alone,” she admitted. “Not a failing of yours, that’s for sure.”

“Hm. Well, I can promise that next time, you’ll come at least once.” He winked, and then pulled her close. “Emma, darling, I do love you,” he said.

“I know,” she said, smiling. “And I do love you.”

* * *

 Late that evening, they were watching _Supernatural_ together on the couch. Emma had made some popcorn, and they’d turned off all the lights to make the show more fun to watch (which had the added disadvantage of making it difficult to find dropped or spilled popcorn).

“It’s strange,” Hook said. “I know that never in my life have I actually watched an episode of this show, but I have _memories_ of watching it. Right now, I remember what happens in this episode, but I know I’ve never seen it.”

“I know what you mean,” she replied. “I’ve found myself having to sort out what movies I’ve seen or books I’ve read, and which ones I just _remember_ seeing or reading.” She shifted a bit in order to sit more comfortably against him. “I _do_ know I’ve seen this show, though,” she added. “I binge-watched it over the past year with Henry.”

“What was the past year like for you?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Mundane. In a good way, I mean. We had a nice apartment. Every day, Henry would get up and go to school, and afterwards he’d hang out with his friends. I was back in bail bonds, which was going well. Dated a bit before I met Walsh. Boring but safe.”

“Sounds like my cursed memories,” he said, chuckling. “Boring but safe.”

“What about you? What happened when you went back?”

He sighed. “I’m reluctant to admit this to you, but I tried to resume my old life. Initially, I couldn’t find the Jolly Roger, but I put together some of my old crew and we did some excellent jobs along some of the less mainstream thoroughfares.”

“Did you find the Jolly Roger?” She frowned. “I haven’t seen it in Storybrooke.”

“I did find her,” he said quietly. “You recall Ariel?” She nodded. “She came looking for me, having discovered that her love had been taken aboard my ship. Of course, I was shipless at the time, but I offered to help her, and we found the Jolly, which Blackbeard had commandeered. I outdueled him to win back my ship, but the bastard had left Ariel’s prince Eric on a deserted island, and wouldn’t give up the man’s location unless I gave up the Jolly Roger.”

“You’re joking,” she said.

“If only I were,” he said sadly. “The reason why you haven’t seen the Jolly Roger here in Storybrooke, love, is that I agreed to the blackguard’s terms.”

“Did … did Ariel find Eric?”

“Aye.”

“That was very noble,” she whispered.

“I did it because I hoped that perhaps someone else would have the opportunity to do the same for me,” he said. “The Jolly Roger was more than a ship to me—she was my home, and she was all I had left after I lost my brother and Milah. But I wanted so badly to be reunited with you that it seemed unconscionable and selfish for me to deny Ariel her own reunion. After I confirmed with her that she’d found her prince, I returned to your parents’ kingdom. I’m relieved that they were so welcoming when I returned; they were quite put off when I left.”

“They like you,” she said, chuckling.

“Aye, but do they like me as a son-in-law?” But he was grinning.

“Getting ahead of yourself there, Hook,” she warned him.

“You _do_ recall that you are my True Love, yes?” He laughed when she merely batted his shoulder in reply. “I’m rather thirsty. Would you like anything to drink?”

“I’m all set,” she said. “Glasses are in the upper cabinet next to the fridge, and there’s lemonade if you prefer that to water.”

“Thanks, love.” In the weak light from the television, he was unable to see exactly what was in his way and managed to stub a toe on his way into the kitchen. “Damn, Swan, what on earth did I just kick? It’s much too dark in here.”

“Sorry,” she said, chuckling. She spotted the shadows of the candles she’d left on the counter. Perhaps …

She thought about how she was relaxing with the man she _loved,_ and who loved her _back._ And the candles lit.

* * *

At eight-fifteen in the morning, Emma Swan woke up, feeling surprisingly refreshed for the first time in ages. Hook was spooning her, his arm draped over her protectively, and he was snoring gently into her hair. Thankfully, it was Saturday, Henry wouldn’t be home until the following night, and (barring an emergency) neither of them had to work. They could spend the day—and night—together, in whatever manner they wished.

She sighed contentedly, and after a few minutes, she fell back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this story! Feedback is always welcome.


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